


When the Strong Break

by Iblametumblrformyproblems



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Build, Therapy, Tom is Broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iblametumblrformyproblems/pseuds/Iblametumblrformyproblems
Summary: Tom Hiddleston, the sexiest man alive, famous actor, and supposedly happy gentleman, barely survives a suicide attempt. His publicist Luke desperately gets a hold of a world-renown therapist to help his dear friend.Now it is your job to help him. What will you discover about this incredible man? And how will you keep from falling in love with him as you put him back together?





	1. Opening Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I really could use some feedback on this one because I've had this idea in my head for a long time without being really sure if I should go through with it. If there is interest and you guys don't hate me for portraying our beloved Tom like this, I will continue, but otherwise I won't.
> 
> Please comment!

You stare back at this beautiful man sitting across from you, his lanky figure almost trying to collapse in on itself. It’s clear he is still uncomfortable with this.

                You just wait patiently until he decides to open up. Your sessions with Tom have always been this way, since his break down a few months ago. You were a world renowned psychologist who specialized in addiction. His dirty little secret, hidden under this happy facade, ate him away as he tried to keep up with the heavy responsibilities of his life, resulting in a dangerous overdose on prescription pain killers that nearly killed him. No one in the press knew, but soon after, his publicist forced him to call you. Luke was one of the few people who knew and he couldn’t bear to see his friend lose it the way he was

                Now, every day, from 4pm to 6, you sit and talk. You go to hi s home in London, a place where he could feel safe and comfortable. Your company specialized in keeping things a secret to avoid press issues for those in the public’s eyes. Unfortunately, it’s not like you’ve had a bit of progress. Fortunately, we got past his outer defenses to the brokenness he had been hiding for years. The first few sessions were quite amusing as he kept up the banter and flirtation he always put on for the press.

                Looking back, those first few days had truly been the hardest. Tom had been sitting exactly where he was sitting now, but he spent most of the first session pacing the room, refusing to relax, though continuously keeping his calm and charming personality in front of his vulnerability.

                But after a break down in our 5th session, you were finally able to get to the real him. He was a quiet man, strong for too long and in deep amounts of pain. His blue eyes pierced your soul with a sadness that always made something inside your heart ache for him. Abandoned by those closest to him over and over again, he turned to suicide as an escape. He couldn’t even harm himself because his body had stopped being his to the world. It wasn’t like society would want a man with self harm scars, or at least that’s what he told himself.

                Fame was a burden on his shoulders and as he found more, it ate away at the very last of his sanity. You were just thankful he was able to get help before it was too late, unlike so many others in his field.

                The silence between you and your patient grew as the clock ticked on. All of your questions were answered with noncommittal grunts and the occasional word. You learned during the first couple sessions that sometimes you just had to wait in silence until his thoughts screamed loud enough to come out of his mouth.

                 A couple more minutes passed. Suddenly, his piercing eyes looked at you fiercely, finally moving from their interested stare at the wall opposite of him. You found yourself hurting for him at the hollow look in his eyes, as if there was nothing in the world to care about.

                “Have you ever just wondered”, he began than paused, as if searching for words. “Have you… ever thought that… that living isn’t worth the trouble?” You leaned forward, about to tell him that there is so much to live for but he went on. “The greatest poets and writers and artists, those who truly saw the best and worst of our world, were driven insane by reality as they all eventually began to realize that maybe breathing is too much of a burden. That feeling of your heart being so tired of beating, the weight of the world sitting upon it heavier every moment. What if they were right? I mean, surely they of all people would know”.

                You shook your head softly. “Tom, those people were truly able to see the world in more colors than humanity sees in, but that also meant that they felt grief more, just as they felt greater highs. But when you start to lose sight of those highs, of the good things, that’s when you stop thinking life is worth the effort. What I’m trying to tell you is that life is truly beautiful. You are surrounded by people who love you and you need to remember the happy things in life if you are going to get through these dark times”. As you spoke, you wrote down notes of what he said, the blank look he maintained as you spoke, all the things that scared you.

                He was quiet again. His eyes moved from yours to stare blankly at the wall once more. It was so sad to see a man known for being full of life looking so lost.

                “Tell me, Tom”, you inquired softly. “Tell me some of your happiest memories. About the times you felt like you could fly”.

                Just more silence came. Looking over at the clock, you sighed realizing that your time was unfortunately over.

                “Well, I’m afraid our time together is over, but tomorrow, we shall start off by talking about all of those mem…”

                Tom grabbed your hand swiftly as you reached down to grab all of your material. His eyes were wide, showing the first real emotion you had seen in him since you had started doing your sessions with him.

                “I don’t remember”, he whispered softly.

                You looked at him with concern. “What don’t you remember, Tom?”

                “I don’t remember what it feels like to be happy”.

 

 

                “Hello, Ms. (Y/L/N)!” Luke greeted as he answered his phone finally. “How’s our boy doing?”

                After every session, it was part of your agreement to call him and just keep him updated on any new changes. Luke was practically Tom’s family and it was against the contract you signed to inform Tom’s actual family unless it was absolutely necessary. So Luke was like a brother, helping with even the tiniest details.

                “I’m afraid that I don’t have good news, Sir”, you began.

                Luke immediately interrupted. “Luke, please. Now what’s wrong?”

                “Well, Luke, I think Mr. Hiddleston is not getting better like we’ve hoped. I’m concerned about his well being and if this wasn’t special circumstances, I would put him somewhere where he can have people around him 24/7 and able to keep him from hurting himself. If I were you I would contact his family and just get someone to come and stay with him”

                A sigh met your ears. “You know I can’t get his family involved unless every option has been burned through. I’d stay with Tom if I wasn’t too busy. I’d be in and out of the house all the time and would probably cause more damage than help”. Luke paused for a minute, contemplating his next move.

                “Listen, I don’t know the details on what is happening between Mr. Hiddleston and his family, but they deserve to know. In fact, it is against the law for me to keep it secret if he’s a danger to himself or someone else. So there needs to be a solution and quickly”, you demand. Honestly, you cared a lot about helping Tom and someone needed to be looking out for his well being, not his celebrity reputation.

                “I’m doing what I can, Miss, so please don’t think that I’m not. Unfortunately, Tom’s family is just not interested in his well being at the current time. They would only cause Tom more pain ultimately”, he explained, frustration pooling in his tone even through your phone.

                “Something must be done, Luke, otherwise I will have no option but to have him admitted to a place that can help him until he is well”.

                Silence met your ears from the second person of the day. A deep sigh and Luke suggested something that surprised you.

                “Would you be willing to talk about an addition in the contract?”


	2. Living with Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you guys just taken the time to watch Tom hiddleston's interviews or how he interacts in real life? I didn't until I started writing some of these fanfictions and I needed to get a better idea of how to write him. The more I watched, the more I began to notice just a slight hint of sadness in his eyes when it looks like no one is really watching. I began to wonder if the man we see in these interviews, is just as much of a character he has to act out as the people he plays in movies. That's really what spurred on this fanfic, but I doubt he's experiencing the depth of pain that I'm writing. Just more of an observation
> 
> On another note, if you don't agree with how I'm writing this depression, I apologize. I'm simply writing from my own experience with depression and self hatred, so please keep that in mind. It's also kind of difficult writing from an outside perspective. I only know what it feels like to b e the one with monsters, not helping someone with monsters.
> 
> Please continue to comment! I love all sorts of feedback and as long as I continue to get some, the chapters will keep coming!

You woke up with a start, the shrill tones of your alarm breaking through your deep sleep. A quick glance at your phone told you it was 8:30 am. You groaned loudly as you sat up. In another hour, you’d have to get Tom up and moving.

                Two days ago, you moved into Tom Hiddleston’s beautiful home. Luke prepared one of the guest bedrooms closest to the master bedroom, just to make sure you could be close if the tall gentleman needed you. Tom just stared off distantly as the activity went on around him.

                If you were being honest with yourself, living in the home of your client was wholly uncomfortable. Yes, you were being paid ungodly amounts of money, but there was always someone to take care of your other clients. A part of you wondered what had happened to this incredible man to make him lose everyone.

              After grabbing a change of clothes, you hopped into the beautifully modern shower, the water pouring over your body with delicious pressure. There definitely were perks to staying in the home of a celebrity. The water pounded out the stress that already seemed to give you a headache and you found yourself feeling refreshed, prepared to face the day, and Tom Hiddleston, head on.

                Being around the man for two days gave you the chance to see how bad his condition truly was. He hadn’t lost it mentally. No, he was completely aware and conscious. He had just lost the will to live, spending his days sitting in one place, or laying in bed if you let him, staring off in space numbly. His words were few and far between, mostly answering yes or no to your questions if he even chose to respond. It was so sad to see.

                You did extensive research on each of your clients before accepting them and Tom was truly incredible. As an actor, he was mesmerizing to all who watched him and could capture the attention of a whole room just by entering it. He was funny, charming, and gentlemanly.

                But you saw what others could not. The look of his eyes when people weren’t paying attention, frozen as if he were a show you had pushed pause on. All this time, he had been acting; no one expected that even Tom was a character he felt the need to play.

                Still, to see a man who was in so many incredible productions and always so lively get turned into the man you now see huddled on a couch every day was heart wrenching. The life he exuded had gone from him, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

                Not that you weren’t hopeful that it would return with time. Two days was hardly enough to see a lot of improvement. You spent most of the first day searching the house for things Tom could use to hurt himself or take his life. It was a purely precautionary measure to keep him safe. A part of you hated to take his razors from him, but he hadn’t used them in over a week, his scruff getting longer every day, so you doubted he’d miss them.

                With a sigh, you exited the warm shower and put your clothes on. Nothing fancy of course, but you still felt like you had to maintain some professionalism. You spent your last 40 minutes stretching and doing a few yoga poses to maintain your body. Having two depressed people in the same house was bound to end horribly.

                 Finally, it was time to wake him. You hesitated outside of the doors to his room, and then knocked softly.

                “Tom? It’s time to get up”, you called into the room.

             There was no sound, but you knew better than to be super concerned. When depression takes the much hold of your life, movement, waking up, even eating was difficult. You knocked once more before opening the door.

                The master bedroom was quite huge and beautifully designed in retrospect, but it just looked dull as its owner looked. A maid came in every couple days and cleaned so there weren’t clothes strewn about, but Tom was lying on a bed that looked like a tornado swept through it. He must have had another nightmare.

                “Tom? Did you hear me?” You called to him softly. Slowly, his eyes opened as if they were painfully glued together. He hardly moved, but you knew that waking him took time.

                As he took his time to sit up, you took out the stuff he needed for the day, choosing a pair of dark jeans and a blue tee shirt. Before you came, he spent most of his days in the same pairs of sweatpants and a faded black shirt without much concern for cleaning himself. It was pathetic, but you knew the feeling. It wasn’t something he could control.

                Lastly, you grabbed a towel for him to use and placed neat pile on the bathroom sink before turning back towards to the bed. He was sitting up now, his legs swung to the side of bed. He didn’t wear anything but boxers to bed and you had to swallow hard at the sight of him, but it wasn’t a difficult thought to push down.

                You walked over to his side, bending down just enough to catch those frozen eyes. “Good morning, Tom”, you greeted softly with a smile. Reaching out to take his hand, you led him to the bathroom, accommodating his slow pace. “All your stuff is ready for you. I’ll prepare breakfast while you are showering, and afterwards we should do some exploring. I haven’t seen most of the house yet and I’d love to be shown around by the owner”. You were rambling and you knew it, but that’s usually how conversations between you and him went. He barely nodded in response to what you said.

                Leaving him to the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen. Luke offered to have a chef come in every day to prepare the meals for you, but since Tom was your only focus at the moment, you didn’t mind having something to do. Cooking wasn’t difficult for you and there was something about the mind numbing task that kept you from letting the darkness that consumed the house inside of you.

                After clicking a few buttons on your phone, you played some big band music over the speakers. It was quite beautiful to cook when it sounded like the music was coming from everywhere. You also knew that listening to the right music would cut through the lethargic atmosphere.

                A few minutes later, you had scrambled eggs frying in a pan and bread toasting in the toaster. Dancing around the kitchen, you sang along with Frank Sinatra. Some people would think you were weird, but you personally loved being weird. So you danced around, probably looking like a complete dork, dearly hoping that it would at least bring a smile to Tom’s face.

                Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to make a dent. He walked into the kitchen like a zombie and sat down at the table without a single word. He watched your movements without interest and did not respond to your smile. Which was fine. You had to keep telling yourself to have patience. His life wasn’t going to just get better instantly because you were part of it.

                The food finished in another minute and you quickly placed the full plate of food in front of Tom. He just stared at it, even as you placed the glass of orange juice and cup of tea in front of him. He didn’t eat much, no matter how you prodded, but you could at least encourage a few bites. Try as you did, you couldn’t stop yourself from being personally invested in this man that you had to take care of every day, no matter if he was a client.

                So you spent breakfast talking to yourself. Tom would just stare at you as you told him everything that was going on in the world, from the latest celebrity gossip, to news of your family’s latest dilemmas. It wasn’t easy for you to dominate the conversation. Being an introvert by nature, you just wished he would speak so you could help him, but sometimes the best way to help someone is give them time to pull themselves out of the hole. You can’t force them.

                In another half hour, you took care of the dishes from breakfast, throwing away most of the picked at food from Tom’s plate, and cleaned the kitchen until it was as spotless as when you first came in. Tom just sat there in his chair watching your movements like a hawk.

                As you finished, you looked up at him cheerfully. “Now on to the tour!” You say with a smile. Tom looks like the act of just being awake for breakfast has exhausted him. You knew that the last thing he wanted to do was get up and show you around, but he nodded nonetheless. When he stood up, it was slow and tender, but at least he was moving.

                He led you step by step throughout the Hiddleston mansion. There were so many rooms, each just as grand as the other. He wouldn’t tell you what was behind each door, just stopping by the entrance as he let you go in by yourself. Your particular favorite was his library, reminding you of the library from beauty and the beast. Not that Tom was anywhere close to the beast.

                Finally you came to a room that seemed a little bit separate from the rest of the house. As usual, he waited outside the door as you entered in with all the curiosity you had with the previous rooms, only to see the most beautiful sight you had seen yet.

                It was a music room. Instruments were everywhere, a saxophone lying open in its case, guitars hanging from the walls, and in the center of the room was the most elegant grand piano you had seen in a long time. Scores of music were meticulously organized in folders by genre and composer. It was clearly not used very often, but everything was in place to make the room perfect for any musician.

                Try as you might, you found yourself mesmerized by the black and white keys. It had been so long since y ou played and now your fingers were itching to play once more. You gingerly walked towards it. A glance towards Tom showed that he didn’t care if you played or not. One song wouldn’t hurt surely.

                Gently, you sat down on the beautiful black piano bench before resting your fingers lightly on the keys. Your muscles seemed to know what they were doing before you brain quite knew. A simple melody began to fill the room, echoing back to you in a cacophony of beauty. The piano was perfectly in tune despite its abandonment.

                Slowly but surely, you found yourself playing a song you wrote many years ago as a young girl. It wasn’t terrible complex, but it came from the depths of your heart and emotion. It felt raw and vulnerable to play. It transported you back to a time where you knew what Tom felt, when you had nothing but music to save you.

                 You almost forgot Tom was watching you as you immersed yourself in the beautiful music that had drove so much of your life at one time. Before you knew you wanted to help people, you just wrote music and played. It stopped the monsters from screaming in your head and let you feel past that numbness in a healthier way than the other ways you tried.

                Too soon, the song came to an end. As you played the last few notes, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Jumping slightly, you looked up to see Tom’s face looking down at you as tears streamed down his handsome face.

                “Please, don’t stop”, he whispered.

                So you played as long as you could, playing every song you knew, as you heard the silent sobs of the man standing next to you. It that’s what it took to penetrate the walls, you’d play for eternity, just to let him feel once again.


	3. You Will Get Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is a really hard fanfiction for me to write because it isn't your usual Tom. It isn't something most people are interested in reading. We all want him to be our knight in shining armor. We all want him to be our romantic prince that is capable of facing anything... But I just wonder sometimes, you know? 
> 
> My own story is a lot like this. I fought depression and suicide all alone and no one knew because I was funny and enigmatic all the time....
> 
> Well, if you like this or are interested in reading more, please comment and give me some feedback. If you don't, feel free to comment on how horrible it is!   
> Please and Thank you!

You played the piano for hours, losing track until your stomach began to rumble in hunger. The silent tears that fell down Tom’s face ceased after a while, but he looked much more peaceful with the music playing. It was a start; seeing something alive in him was so worth your aching fingers. 

The last few notes of your song rang out as you stopped playing. You looked over at his face, taking in the blank stare that met your eyes once again. How you wanted to just hold him, to let him cry as much as he needed, but that would be crossing the line between client and friend. 

“Tom?” You called to him. A light seemed to go off behind his eyes as if he just realized you were there. “Tom, how did that music make you feel? What were you thinking about?”

He looked down at the black and white keys curiously detached. It was a few more moments of silence before he finally answered. “They made me feel something. I was just thinking how nice it was to not be numb even for just a moment”. It came out as a whisper, reverent and shy. 

You made a mental note to have music playing at all times, sure it would help him a little. “That’s wonderful, Tom. I’m proud of you for letting yourself feel to some extent. Would you like to play while I make a late lunch for us?” You ask hopefully. 

Confusion clouded his features, but he nodded nonetheless. You stood to give him some room and he just sat there, carressing the keys softly. You left the room slowly and began heading towards the kitchen. 

After another three minutes, you heard the soft sound of a single note being played. As hard as this was on him, he was trying to find himself in something. He hadn’t quite given up and as long as that remained true, there was always hope. You thought back to your own battles at a young age, a battle fought alone for many years. Your own scars had faded. But that kind of darkness leaves very vivid memories. 

It was because of those memories that you first decided to become a psychologist. No one deserved to fight that crushing darkness by themselves and without someone who could truly understand and care. Someday, Tom would be there, helping others struggling with the same battle and touching so many lives that feel like they are the only person who feels that way. That’s why you were a celebrity psychologist. How better to change the world than by helping those who influence millions?

The occasional notes continued to be played throughout the time it took you to cook a simple dinner of chicken and alfredo. Cooking wasn’t your best specialty, but it was delicious if you do say so yourself. You took your apron off and headed back into the music room to fetch Tom. 

Instead of the expected sight of him sitting at the piano, you found him huddled in a corner, weeping uncontrollably. Fear coursed through you, worried you had done something irreparable. “Tom!” You cried, running to his side and kneeling in front of him. He only responded by collapsing into your arms, his lanky body curled into the size of a small child. 

You just held him as he continued to weep, stroking his back and being comforting in the only ways you knew how. This wasn’t usually your job. Usually, you met with your clients and gave instructions to their loved ones on how to care for them. It was your job to be the doctor, the safe person that wasn’t connected to them truly. But you felt your heart break as you held the man known around the world. 

“I’m”, he gasped between sobs. “I’m… so.. Sorr..sorry”, he managed just barely. His whole body shook with each wave of pain that was so deep it showed itself physically as he attempted to keep himself together.

“Shh… It’s ok, Tom. You are ok. Please know you don’t have to apologize to me”, you comforted tenderly. He made no attempt to answer again, just simply crying in your arms. You lost track of how much time had passed in that position before his cries began to subside. Never did you hands stop stroking his hair gently or soothing the muscles in his back. You felt like a mother comforting her child, but it wasn’t a burden in any way whatsoever.

He sat up after a few more minutes and looked you with tear stained eyes. “Thank you”, he whispered gruffly. You brushed the remaining tears from his face and smile back at him.

“I’m happy to be here for you whenever you need it”. He half managed a small smile at this. Even the smallest break in his sadness was a miracle and you felt your whole insides warm at that small smile. “May I ask what happened, Tom?”

Tom looked down, almost ashamed of his show of emotion. “I was trying to play and… it just wasn’t coming out right. And I just couldn’t stop thinking of how big of a failure I am. The only person who seems to know anything real about me is my manager. My family couldn’t care less. Every woman I’ve ever loved left me because I just wasn’t enough in the end. And I just found myself falling apart. Perhaps not feeling is better in the end than feeling at all”, he explained. That was probably the most you ever heard him say. Progress felt so wonderful.

You waited to respond, soothing his brow instead with your fingertips. When he finally looked back up at you, you decided to give him some hope. “Tom, life is filled with days where we feel completely alone. Pain tries to exclude us from those who care and eventually it’s almost impossible to believe anyone does. But the truth is, Tom, that people do care. Your family does love you. Your friends do love you. You mean something to everyone you touch in your life. This pain and loneliness isn’t permanent, I promise. There will always be a light at the end of tunnel if you just look ahead”. 

He sighed deeply, taking in your words with almost a grimace on his face. “Than why does it feel like this will never end? What if there is no light?” 

“I wish I could tell you it will just magically get better, Tom”, you answer. His eyes kept your gaze like you held all the answers to his life, clearly trying to display his agony. “Life is filled with battles and hardship. But what I can tell you is that you get better. You heal from this brokenness. You find the strength to win and you will get free from this darkness. And suddenly, life will feel worth it again because you can see the magic in life again. You will find the truest love you’ve ever experience. You will start a family and experience being a father. You will get a new taste of the good things in life that make these battles worth it”. You paused. “And you have to remember that when it gets hard. Because no matter what it looks like right now, your tomorrow is worth fighting for”.

He didn’t talk much after that. He retreated within himself for a while, emotionally exhausted, but he looked less dead than before. They sat together a little while longer before eating a quiet dinner together. Just the presence of each other was enough without any conversation, but it was a good day. You had to remember to look at these days when the bad days came, to tell yourself that there was still hope for Tom.

After dinner, you put on a movie while Tom immediately fell asleep on the couch next to you. He looked so peaceful while he slept. You covered him in a thick blanket and decided to just let him sleep there for the night. In a better world where he wasn’t so tortured or in pain, you could see him laying there with some beautiful woman as they talk about having kids and spending the rest of their lives together. The image was meant to be a kind thought, but it made you sad for some reason you couldn’t quite place. 

Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth the thought. 


	4. Seasons Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I find myself fighting with this story constantly. When I was in the midst of these kind of struggles, there were certain outlets that helped a lot, like sex and music. I don't want to step on toes, like a relationship between the reader and tom would make everything better for him. Quite the opposite really. The idea is he is getting better on his own, learning to fight and after a relapse, something happens. But I haven't quite chosen where to go with it. Tom is certainly in no place to have a relationship, though the reader may be falling for her project. I just don't want to offend anyone with where I'm taking this, just writing depression and the outlets like my own personal experiences. So is something between Tom and the reader just another outlet, or does Tom actually want to be with her?
> 
> As always, feedback is loved and appreciated

There’s a hard truth about depression that most people refuse to accept: No one just gets better on your time. You’d dedicated your life to taking the time really needed to change someone’s life around, but you’d forgotten what it was like to care for someone on a one on one basis. You look for improvement in everything, whether you mean to or not. That’s why many people being cared for by a family member or a friend can fall deeper into depression because of the expectation and frustration that comes when you don’t get progress as quickly as you want. As a rule, you’d learned to detach yourself from those emotions. But it was certainly encouraging as Tom finally began to respond, even if it was just through music.

Every day, you’d encourage him to play something. Sometimes you played for him, other times he would plunk on the piano until he couldn’t take the building emotions anymore. You’d held him a few more times as he broke down, but there were also positive responses, such as the occasional smile or a small chuckle once. It was progress, even if he regressed to his depressed state every time.

Now the fight was to bring a little light in daily.  As a naturally empathic person, it took some work to not fall into depression yourself. To combat your growing apathy and help Tom on a daily basis, it was quickly decided that sunshine was needed, both in physical warmth and metaphorically. 

So you began to take him out on walks. You hated that phrase because it almost sounded like you were walking a dog, but every day without fail, he would try to avoid leaving the house. It was his security blanket, no matter how musty and dark it was. That’s what depression does; it keeps you needing the very things that will only make it worse. Thus, you didn’t press to hard or get frustrated when he had a panic attack in the doorway or when he took nearly ran back inside after five minutes. 

On one particular walk, you began to consider putting together a training program for the loved one’s of people fighting mental illnesses. You could only help so much as a therapist. The greatest impact always comes from those who are there every day and through the toughest of moments. There’s so much damage a person can do if they don’t know what to expect or how to handle the illness when it makes itself apparent. 

Tom walked next to you, taking small steps as if he was reluctant to take each one. You supported him, allowing him to lean on you whenever he felt weak, which was often. After months of neglect, his body just couldn’t handle much, but he was gaining some weight back with you making him three meals a day and making sure he ate something no matter how he felt. It was hard for you to believe that the hollow man next to you was the same man who women adored and was beautiful enough to be a god. 

The walk continued through some trails he’d used to run on his property. The country was absolutely beautiful at this time of the year, the end of summer signaled by the red tint of color found on many leafs. Autumn was fast approaching, cooling off the summer heat and bringing beauty along with it. 

“What’s your favorite time of the year, Tom?” You asked, pulling him out of his own head. 

He looked up at you, a little disoriented. He searched his mind to find an answer, like trying to find a forgotten memory of childhood. “Spring, I think”, he answered, almost as if he was unsure of himself. 

“Great choice. Spring is absolutely stunning with everything coming into bloom in brilliant colors and shades. Life is bursting everywhere in an organized chaos”, you described, trying to bring the picture to his mind. The small sparkle in his eyes told you that you had succeeded in showing him something that broke through the cloud for a moment. “What’s your favorite part about spring?”

He was lost in thought again for moment, examining the recesses of his mind. “I like the color of the grass and the smell of everything”, Tom answered softly. 

“What do you mean?” You pressed a little further, hoping he didn’t shut down again.

“The grass is a cross somewhere between the yellow of winter and the brilliant greens of summer. It’s wetter, more shiny in the spring, and every breeze sends it into a dance. The smell, like lavender and rain and earth, is unique to only spring. And it just makes me feel at peace”, he finished softly. His voice was gruff and his eyes looked far away, but they didn’t have the glaze they normally held. They looked bright for once. 

You gave him a soft smile, just happy to see him focusing on something he loved. “You should have been a poet, Tom. You describe things in such vivid details, I can almost see it in front of me”.

He shrugged at that, breaking from his spell. Probably the thoughts inside of his head were telling him he would never be that good to be of any worth. You wish you could grab his face and make him believe that those weren’t true, but the best way to prove them wrong was to be a constant force of truth for him. The only way for the lies to stop was for him to stop believing them. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. 

The glazed look returned and he quickly became to weary to walk anymore so you made your way back to the house. Once inside the warmth of the house, you watched him take his shoes and coat off mechanically, as if he was a robot fulfilling his duties. A pang of sadness hit you in the gut as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. You couldn’t expect him to be there yet, but there was a part of you that longer to keep that genuine man you saw glimpses of away from the horrors that kept him in pain.

You cleared your throat a little before beginning dinner, making sure he didn’t see the tears that escaped your eyes and cascaded down your face. 

 

It was 2:17 in the morning when you woke up with a start. You were disorientated for a second as you searched the darkness for what woke you up, but quickly heard the violent yells and cries from Tom’s room. Not even bothering to throw on a robe or slippers, you sprinted out of your room into his room.

Tom was twisted around in his sheets as his limbs flailed violently, a thin sheet of sweat causing his body to glisten in the moonlight. You ran to his side and tried to work on calming him down without getting punched by his arms. 

“Tom! Hey, Tom! Wake up!”, You called to him, trying to hold down his limbs just enough to keep him from hurting himself. “It’s just a nightmare, Tom! It’s not real!”

He wasn’t waking up and the flailing only seemed to get worse. You straddled his chest to hold his arms down, getting punched and kicked for your efforts. Despite his lack of taking care of himself, he was clearly stronger than you and it took almost all of your body weight to just hold his arms down. 

“Tom, you’ve got to wake up! Please!” You cried out as loudly as you could into his face. And just like that, his whole body froze up and he opened his eyes. The terror that showed on his face was so real you were scared to ask what he dreamed about. You’d only seen that kind of terror once, with a patient who suffered from severe auditory hallucinations and acute paranoia. It took 4 nurses to hold down a girl who barely weighed 120 and she screamed the whole times, as if she was literally being dragged into the depths of hell. Those screams still haunted you sometimes. 

He was breathing hard and fast, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. You pulled you weight off his arms and cradled his head instead, soothing his messed hair and whispering to him, “It’s not real, Tom. You are safe. You are ok. Everything is alright”, over and over. He began to breathe with you, just like you taught him to whenever he had a panic attack. It took some time but he slowly calmed down. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized he was holding you tight against him and you were sitting straight on top of his crotch. You were pressed against him in so many ways that had you wanting more, wishing for more. Thinking was difficult with his warm breath hitting your chest through your flimsy shirt and his face pressed into your sensitive breasts.

‘No’, you told yourself firmly. Tom was a broken man and you positively hated yourself for thinking thoughts like this about someone who needed help, needed a friend. With a reluctant sigh you pulled yourself away from his embrace, desperately for the professionalism that protected you from becoming too attached to those that would move on when they were better. If it wouldn’t cause him harm, you’d consider telling Luke she couldn’t stay anymore. All it took was one mistake with your emotions and you could lose your license and your practice. 

Your hand was on the door knob when you heard Tom whisper softly. 

“Please don’t go”.

You needed to leave. You needed take a cold shower and masturbate or something for this frustration. You needed to get out before you made a mistake.

But you couldn’t. Not when his voice pleaded you to stay. With a small sigh of resignation, you turned around and walked back to the bed. He made room for you to slip in next to him and didn’t say another word as he watched you lay down and get comfortable. The both of you laid there, looking up at the ceiling for a while in the dark. 

You almost thought he’d fallen asleep until you heard a small whisper in the dark. “What’s your favorite time of the year, (Y/N)?”

A soft smile graced your lips, intertwining your fingers with his large hand that lay next to yours. “Winter, Tom. I love the snow and the smell of the world, the beautiful silence that you can’t find any other time”. 

Nothing else was said as you both drifted to sleep, hands intertwined like they were holding on to each other. 


	5. Finally Recovering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is particularly close to my heart as lots of the things I went through emotionally during my recovery process. I found that I had a particular need for love and to be loved. I found I personally could be more reckless, more flirtatious as a front. As I recovered, it became a need for acceptance and when that acceptance wasn't found, I'd relapse. So if this offends anyone else's recovering story, I'm sorry. I can only write this from my personal perspective
> 
> As always, feedback is loved and appreciated!

Somehow, despite the horrible shame Tom experienced when he caught sight of the discoloration on your skin from the punches he threw in his sleep, you found yourself sleeping in his bed every night. It started out reluctantly, like you were coerced into doing it much like a child is convinced into doing chores with the promise of candy. You were completely aware of the dangers, but as you comforted him every night, he always asked you to stay until it became routine. Eventually, you just went to bed with him before the nightmare happened. They became less frequent that way. 

Despite the danger, it seemed to be helping. Tom was getting more rest every night and feeling less terrified in the morning. Those rare smiles happened a lot more and he started developing energy spikes. Not constant ones of course, but one morning, you found him making breakfast for the two of you, only to crash after the ordeal. Or spend a little while actually playing some of his favorite songs on his guitar, despite the sobs that escaped him when he hit a wrong chord. He was getting better, truly.

Of course your body was still finding the most inopportune moments to make being a professional difficult. You started to wonder if you should start seeing someone once week perhaps, maybe get some help. Even you could recognize that this addiction to making him better was unhealthy, like a desperation that would eventually turn into an obsession with being relied on. He didn’t need a mother. Only a doctor who would make him better then let him fly.

Or perhaps it was just a silly crush, the growing feelings of being so close to someone on a daily basis. It was a common occurrence among caregivers. It’s easy to become fond of those under your care. You would do most anything to help him, to give him the happiness he’s searching for, but you had been sure  you were strong enough to not fall prey to this kind of neediness. You were a professional therapist for God’s sake!

All these thoughts were starting to consume you, even as you made meals, walked in the sun, laughed and cried and comforted, a kind, genuine man who laid next to you every night. How do you maintain indifference when you found yourself wrapped in his arms some mornings, his body pressed against yours in every way that shook you to the core? Even on the most innocent mornings, it was too close, too intimate to keep your emotion distance. 

This morning, you woke to Tom pressed against your back, holding you close to him while the two of you slept. He breathed deeply, the most relaxed he had been in the whole time you’ve been staying with him. As much as you needed to move, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Maybe you just needed a boyfriend. There had to be a way to maintain good physical, emotional, and mental health without damaging yourself or Tom.

You were lost in your thoughts about maybe finding some dating websites for professionals, someone who could share your passions and intellect, while adhering to the deep affecting found in a relationship without co-dependence, when Tom shifted a little against you with a sigh. He was currently sporting a rather impressive hard on and your whole body suddenly felt inflamed. This was going to make your day so much more frustrating. 

You needed to get up. It was time to start your morning routine: masturbate, shower, breakfast. Every morning, it was that routine that kept you from allowing something that was off limits. Even as he nuzzled your neck sleepily and you lost all reasonable thought in your mind, all your instincts were screaming to run and get to your safe place, a place without such dangers.

You just started to shift off the bed when the hand at your waist gripped you closer, grinding his waist against your body with a small moan. Your heart pounded at the speed of a freight train. This wasn’t a moment where he needed you emotionally, where you fought with the sick side of you that wants to take pleasure in a sick man. This was a man sleeping next to you every night, holding you closely and wanting you, even if it was just subconscious. That made it all the worse. 

With a new found strength you didn’t think yourself capable of, your extracted yourself from his grasp and went to your room. Within seconds you found the toy you needed at that moment, stripped down, and began pleasing yourself. Your moans and sighs were muffled by a pillow you put over your face, anything to keep yourself from being noticed while you found a much needed release. In a moment, it was easy to imagine Tom touching you, his body pressed against yours and forcing you to let go, to jump over the edge. The look in his eyes as he played your body like he plays his guitar. The same precision he does in everything when he is well. 

With a small scream, you orgasmed. It wasn’t necessarily as powerful as you wanted, but it would do. It would keep you from making more decisions you were sure to regret. 

 

 

Within an hour or so, you were cooking breakfast while Tom finished getting up. The look in his face when you woke him up, standing above him made you feel absolutely guilty for not staying in bed. But he got up nonetheless, still maintaining a bit more energy than he had in the beginning. He’d taken to wearing jeans and dress shirts on his good days instead of sweats and teeshirts. You’d even given him some of his shaving razors back so he could clean up. He was taking care of himself again.

So you decided to make a bigger breakfast than normal. With his new appetite, it was sure to be all gone by the end of the meal, so you didn’t mind. It was nice to not be throwing away a majority of the meals you made. 

Your music played on the speakers, just like you did every morning and found yourself getting lost in the beat. Your bare feet danced around on the tile, probably looking like a complete idiot, but giving yourself to it for just a moment. The new energy of the house was getting to you and it felt absolutely wonderful. 

A small chuckle behind you had you frozen in an instant, spinning to face the source of the laugh. Tom was leaning against the wall, looking particularly delicious as he took in your dancing figure. 

“Do you always dance in the morning, or is it just this song that makes you wanna sprawl around the kitchen?” Tom asked, his tone lighthearted and genuine. 

You blushed furiously, looking away from his teasing face. “Uh, more of a rare occasion than anything. Or maybe I just did it to hear you laugh”, you answered, teasing right back. 

That earned you another chuckle before suddenly you felt him standing behind you, taking in your breakfast. “Looks absolutely delicious”, he complimented with a deep sniff. “What’s the occasion?”

You turned your head slightly, your heart skipping as you barely have to strain to see his face, just inches from yours. His blue eyes weren’t on the food, but you, staring intently at you. “No occasion. Just wanted a good breakfast for the both of us”, you breathed, your voice coming out much huskier than you would like. 

He just nodded slightly, his every feature like a visible laugh. This was such a rare sight you’d have done anything to see that face on him more. His large hand suddenly encompassed yours, pulling you away from the hot stove and against his body. 

“Breakfast can wait for a song, don’t you think?” And with that, he began swaying the two of you to the beat. It was so wonderful you almost forgot that you didn’t know how to dance for the life of you. Yet he made it easy. His deep, thick voice sang along quietly and before you knew it, you were spinning and dancing right along with him. He didn’t even comment when you accidentally stepped on his foot a few too many times. He just laughed a little and pulled you closer to have navigate the tight area and keep you from stepping on his feet any longer. 

It couldn’t have been more than a few moments, but it almost felt like forever. You weren’t looking at the broken man you’d come to know, but someone who was putting himself together with a new strength and a new lease on life. Of course this was only the beginning of recovery, but seeing him, the real him behind all the pain and all the self hatred, was enough to make you want to help him until there was no pain to keep him hidden any longer.

As the song ended, you found yourself dipped backwards, your eyes becoming level with the white drawers at the top of the granite island. Tom’s hands held you carefully, making sure to not pull you too far away from his body. You picked you head up just enough to look him in the eyes, just to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. There was self doubt and anxiety, maybe worried about how you’d react. Yet still they were darker with something you hadn’t seen in him before. Still beautiful even through the filters he held.

The pause between songs had stuck you and him in limbo for a small moment that stretched on and on. But it was all too soon shattered by the beginning of the next song, stunning you both out of the silence to finally put you both on even ground. Tom smiled, a little more hesitantly as your body contacted his again. He was thinking too much again.

Oh how you wanted to kiss those thoughts away. But it wasn’t your place. You were his friend, his therapist, and his confidant. Not his lover. He’d find someone eventually that could take the role. But he didn’t want or need you to fill that role. That’s what you had to do. You had to separate yourself from the emotion of it all. Otherwise you’d destroy all of this progress for the sake of your own selfish desires. 

The smell of smoke broke you out of your senses and gave you the excuse to smile and step back, giving you both the distance required for the positions you maintained. You were the therapist and he was the person who needed help recovering from deep emotional drama. And that was all you could ever be


	6. Bad Decisions and Painful Homecomings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to hold a bit more of what caused Tom to spiral in the first place. There are some references to Tom's personal life with his family and I just wanted to say I in no way want to assume anything about these people. I guess it's one of the downsides to writing stories about a real person compared to a character.
> 
> To be honest, I've really struggled writing this chapter because I genuinely didn't want to over step the bounds here. It's one thing to basically write porn about a real person... it's another to write a fic about his family and his life and the people he cares about.... So I guess I'm just asking for no judging. I apologize in advance for any offense I might cause.
> 
> On that note, I'd still love feedback and I hope everyone will be ok with the direction this story is taking.

“You’ve never seen Indiana Jones?! What hole did you live under?!” 

You laughed at Tom’s dramatic reaction. “That’s what happens when you go to college at 15 and graduate when most people are just starting their bachelor's”, you answered with a shrug.

“We are going to fix this. Immediately”, he said with a dead serious face. 

A half hour later, you found yourself sprawled out on the couch with popcorn, a well made earl grey tea, and the perfect surround sound for watching one of Tom’s favorite trilogies. He was buzzing with excitement, making consistent comments about how well done everything is, and the incredible acting displayed by Harrison Ford, the consistent period references, and the daring adventures that riddled his childhood imagination because of these movies. The movie was great: Listening to Tom was much more enjoyable. His face lit up and he was full of energy. In the entire time you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like this.

As you neared the end of “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, where Marion and Indiana look into each other’s eyes, making promises in the light of the dangers they’d just endured, Tom looked over at you and the world just stopped. The glow of the television painted his face in stark contrast, darkening the shadows and letting loose the beauty of that darkness. The ability to breathe completely escaped you. 

His gaze traveled from your eyes to memorize the shape of your lips, his very gaze touching your skin intimately. The credits were rolling with heavy horn music drifting through your senses, but all you cared about was him right there in front of you. One of his large hands reached up slowly to brush a hair out of your face, sending your skin spiraling into a new abyss of sensation. 

Your eyes slowly drifted close, shutting out everything to make the moment last just a little longer. That little voice in your head was telling you to run, that you needed to leave immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. And after a single moment, you felt the brush of the softest lips you’d ever kiss against your own. 

Your eyes shot open in surprise. Tom was watching you closely, but didn’t back away, waiting for your response. Hesitantly, with enough guilt punching through you to rival a train, you kissed him back, giving him the much needed reassurance he was searching for. He kissed you with a little more force, his hand reaching around to grasp the nape of your neck. It was intimate and perfect.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, you’d allowed him access to your mouth, his tongue caressing you gently with a nervous exploration that warmed your heart. Nothing was hurried or rushed while you learned each other. It was everything a first kiss was supposed to be, full of feeling and discovery as you moved against one another in perfect tandem, pulling each other close not for the sake of passion, but out of affection. 

But the whole moment was interrupted when a loud voice broke through with a big surprise.

“Wow, bro. You’d think you’d learn to just get a room in a house this size”.

Tom jumped back before looking up at the intruder with a face that nearly broke your heart. He looked completely detached, like someone had just punched him in the gut. You followed his gaze to see a beautiful blonde woman standing there, looking awfully familiar. 

“What are you doing here, Emma?” Tom asked, his voice sounding rough and full of emotion.

She dropped the bag hanging from her shoulder unceremoniously to the ground before responding. “Can’t a sister ever come visit her brother?”

You looked back at Tom and were shocked by the sudden change in his demeanor. He’d gone from comfortable and relaxed to every nerve on edge, his eyes open wide with fear, his body folded in on itself. He looked so small and terrified. Having Emma around was clearly not a good thing.

You grabbed his hand slowly, trying to bring comfort, but he never took his eyes off her. This would be a vital moment where you could only sit back and help as needed, but you couldn’t make decisions for Tom. That was the difference between a therapist and a friend. You could try all you wanted to actually be there and take care of him, but in the end, you were still getting paid. 

The guilt that had been slowly growing in your chest now exploded throughout your body. You just kissed him. You manipulated the power you held and allowed yourself to take advantage of a man who trusted you. 

In the middle of all your inner musings and self hatred, Tom and Emma seemed to be having a bit of a stare down, each waiting for the other to say something. You figured they may need some privacy, though you weren’t sure if Tom needed you to stay or not.

“I think I’ll go make some tea”, you started, pulling away from the couch and slowly standing before looking back at Tom. “Do you need me?” You asked, making sure he would be ok. A slow nod was all you received as an answer. 

Fortunately the kitchen was close enough that you could hear snippets of the conversation. You put the kettle on and placed three mugs out of the cupboard while pretending not to overhear what was being said.

“So where’d you pick this one up, Tom? She doesn’t seem like another one of your actress friends”, Emma started, her tone full of a disregard that bothered you a bit.

Tom’s answer was so small, you couldn’t make it out, much like trying to hear both sides of a telephone conversation while in the room with one person talking. Emma was loud, boisterous, and a bit rude in her tones and body language, which was surprising to you because everything you’d heard and seen about her seemed to say the opposite.

Tom’s answer was quickly sussed out as Emma responded openly. “Mom doesn’t care where I am any more. She sent me off like some lunatic after everything, the same way she did with you. You’d think I get a better welcoming from the sibling that got the same cold shoulder,” she ranted a bit. 

“You know she cares,” was the small response you could hear back. 

A loud scoff denied the sentiment with disbelief. “If that’s what you call caring about someone, I would rather be hated.”

There was a long silence after that while you prepared the tea bags and allowed the hot water some time to boil. This was the answer to everything that caused him to spiral and your damn curiosity was getting the better of you. How fucked up is that, that you could make out with your client and listen in to his private conversations?

“Anyways, I need a place to stay for a while. Do you mind if I stay with you? I promise it won’t be too long,” Emma asked with a tone that really didn’t sound like asking. 

Whatever Tom said was lost to you as nothing else was said. The kettle whistled loudly and you poured the water into the mugs, giving them time to seep and cool before picking them up and bringing them back to where Tom was sitting. 

He still looked completely dejected, like everything was slipping away from him. You placed the steaming mug on the table in front of him before taking your seat next to him, careful not to get to close this time. Only then did he look up at you, his eyes hollow and empty of the life that had just filled them, like he was in shock.

“Are you ok?” You asked softly, despite it being clear he wasn’t. He needed to know you were there, that he had a friend he could reach out to in the moment.

Tom began nibbling on the side of his nail while his leg shook vigorously, much like he was formulating an answer in the middle of a panic attack. “I just… I just wasn’t expecting her to come here of all places… after everything… God, this isn’t going to end well,” he breathed and stuttered out through the nerves.

His breathing was becoming steadily more sporadic with every second, so you decided to fuck all the rules about being close for a moment and put your arms around him, letting him feel every breath for him to follow.

“It’s ok, Tom. If you don’t want her here, she doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be bullied into letting her stay if it’s a danger to you or your health,” you whispered soothingly while he calmed down. His strong fingers clung to you as his only lifeline, like a child clings to his mother after a nightmare.  

“I can’t just turn her away… she’s my sister… What will everyone think… I can’t abandon her,” he gasped out. You felt tears hitting your shoulder while you continued to soothe him by running your fingers through his hair. This was a good sign. If he were to shut off now and not allow himself to feel the emotion, it would turn into something much more self destructive. 

You pulled his face up to look into his eyes. He was beautiful, even with tears streaking his features. “Tom, whatever decision you make, I will stand behind you wholeheartedly. It’s ok to make decisions based off your needs.”

He seemed to calm at that, though his whole body was still taut with anxiety.  He continued to cling to you until the emotion died down just a bit. The hollow look passed to something a little more put together, but you didn’t miss the hints of pain hiding behind the resolve. 

“Thank you,” Tom whispered, before leaning close once more, like he was about to kiss you again. Everything in you wanted to let him, but that moment in the kitchen was enough to put your head back on straight. You placed your forefinger on his beautiful lips to stop him as softly as possible. It was hard to ignore the rejection clear in his eyes, or the pain it caused your own heart.

“We can’t, Tom”, you informed him as kindly as possible. “I’m your therapist. For me to take advantage of you in this state would be cruel. The power imbalance by itself will do more damage than good and after all the progress you’ve made, I could never stand being the cause of more pain for you. Not to mention I could lose my license”. You watched his reaction through every word, watched as a hardness came over his features, an acceptance, but also pain. You just had to tell yourself you were causing less pain than what it would be later. 

He pulled away from your embrace, blinking with rejection. “If you didn’t want me, you could have just said so,” he murmured, a little hint of anger pushing through his tone. 

Anger was a good sign. A very good one. He was learning to stop blaming himself for everything, to get mad at the people who betray him. Even if that included you.

“Goodness, Tom! That’s the opposite of the truth!” You tried to reassure through your own pain. “I want you so bad. If we were in a different situation, I would do anything to be kissed by you and maybe one day, once you are better and I’m not your therapist, we could try this again. I just want to give you everything you deserve on your road to healing.” 

Tom took a deep sigh of resignation before nodding and giving you a hesitant smile. 

“Now drink your tea before it gets cold, ok?”

  
  


The next morning started like every morning does, no sign of Emma as you showered and prepared for the day. Last night, you still shared a bed with Tom, but he was grasping the whole boundaries thing as you woke up not tangled up in him like usual. There was a part of you that was deeply bothered by the distance between the two of you, but it was for the best. 

So with a sigh, you began the day and made breakfast for everyone. You weren’t sure what Emma liked, but you figured a good, filling breakfast would be appreciated on some level. After about 10 minutes, your privacy was interrupted as Emma walked into the kitchen. She seemed a bit jittery, her eyes bloodshot, and her whole body moved with obvious drowsiness. 

“So what are you exactly?” She began, grabbing a large cup of coffee and gulping it down. “Are you like, Tom’s maid or something? I always knew he was a kinky son of a bitch.”

“Nope,” you answered before handing her a plate of toast. “I’m just a friend that’s here to help Tom for a little while.” You figured that was the safest explanation for the time being. Tom hadn’t given you permission to advertise that he needed a therapist and after the scene she walked in on last night, it was best to not advertise the details.

A small scoff met your ears, but nothing else was said. You put the bacon on and soon the whole room was filled with a sizzling sound. You turned around and poured yourself your own cup of coffee, silently taking in a small tremor running through Emma’s hand momentarily. Oh… 

All the pieces were starting to come together, but you were tried not to jump to conclusions. Tom would tell you when he was ready.

Speaking of Tom, he just entered the kitchen and you tried not to give him the look that you were sure was moments from being evident on your face. He looked completely exhausted, worn to the edge of his control. While Emma looked weary, Tom looked like he hadn’t slept in months, walked like his whole body was sore from overuse. 

He gingerly sat down at the table, looking at everything but Emma, from the cup of coffee you placed in front of him to your body as you finished up breakfast to the floor that sparkled enticingly. It was like he was preparing to do something, but he had no idea how to begin. 

Bringing plates of toast, bacon, and eggs to the table, you sat next to Tom softly and gave him a look that reminded him of your promise last night. You were with him no matter what. 

“Emma,” he began, his voice gruff and exhausted. “I need to talk to you.”

She put her cup down on the table and crossed her arms in front of her, ready for a fight. “What do you want, Thomas?” She asked, challenging him.

“I called mom,” was all it took. And suddenly the tension in the room exploded.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” She burst out, banging her first on the table. “I thought I could trust you!”

Tom grabbed your hand under the table and you understood it wasn’t out of affection, but out of the desperate need for a physical reassurance. He swallowed hard and met Emma’s furious gaze. “You didn’t give me a choice. Why didn’t you tell me? How can I trust you are being honest with me?” He fought back. Strength was returning to him like he was using yours and pulling it into him. 

“What are you talking about?!” Emma shrieked. “I’ve told you everything!”

He gave her a hard look that said very clearly that he wasn’t an idiot. “Oh, so like the fact you left the rehab mom put you in? Because I distinctly don’t remember you ever mentioning that little fact.”

Emma didn’t have a response. She ground her teeth and looked away from him, furious. There was a moment of awkward silence as you both waited on baited breath. But Tom wasn’t quite finished.

“Listen, Emma. We all love you and we want what’s best for you.” He took a deep breath. “And that’s why mom is on her way here.”


	7. Trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just a warning, this is going to be a rough chapter. The truth finally comes out, what caused Tom to try to take his life. Again, I have no intention to make any assumptions about his family dynamics or his mother and I truly feel like a horrible person for it. But it fit the story too well. They are his foundation and no matter what occurs in the world, he finds strength in them. 
> 
> Also, I would like everyone to know I have absolutely zero medical knowledge. Unless you count like freaking movies or personal therapy experiences. So, I kind of just bull shitted my way through some stuff and if that offends anyone, I'm super sorry. I genuinely have no idea what I'm talking about when it come to medication. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read this and I hope you will continue giving me feedback and the support I've seen for this story!

Emma almost exploded out of her seat, anxiety and fear taking over her features. How one person could be so terrified of their own mother spoke volumes about the respect Tom’s family held for the woman. The bad news was she was about to start lashing out. And that would mean a war zone in Tom’s kitchen. 

“How could you?!” Emma shrieked. “I’m leaving now! You know, I thought I could trust you, but it’s clear you’ve only ever cared about your own self!” 

Tom made no obvious movement or reaction to her hard words, but you felt how hard it was for him to keep his control as he grasped your hand with a sincere desperation. You did what you could to subtly soothe the muscles in his hand as he found the strength to continue.

“No,” he answered gently, but firmly. “I’ve always cared, Emma. I called mom because I cared and because you deserve a better life than this. You can run if you’d like, but you’ll only spend the rest of your life running.”

Emma began pacing and screaming more insults, filled to the brim with obscenities and rage that spoke of the underlying fear she was experiencing. You specialized in addiction and the treatment needed for it, so the behavior was something you’d know to expect, but Tom was becoming a punching bag. Could you save him? Was there anyway you could direct the anger to someone who wasn’t already fragile? 

“Emma,” you interrupted another tirade, using your therapist voice firmly. “Please sit down. You are just working yourself up and your body won’t handle it well with the withdraw you are experiencing.” 

Instead of the intended effect, she became only more furious with Tom, looking at him incredulously. “Oh, so now you are sharing my private life with your new fuck toys?! Nice to know the whole world is about to know what you did!” She screamed. 

“Stop!” Tom yelled standing up from his seat, furious. “Don’t you dare start calling her names like that!” 

Ok, this was just going to get more heated and you weren’t going to help the situation when no one saw or respected you as the therapist. Tom would listen, but you couldn’t stop him from being her punching bag. Of course there were myriads of questions going through your head, like what Emma meant about what Tom did, that for some reason she blamed him for her addiction. Which wasn’t abnormal for addicts to do. But what if that person couldn’t handle the blame and it broke them? Was that the final answer to Tom’s spiral?

You gently placed your hand over his and caught his attention again. “It’s ok, Tom. I can take it. Just don’t let it get to you,” you tried to soothe. 

“Of course she can handle it,” Emma interrupted what was about to be a successful calming effect. “She probably gets called all sorts of names by the men who take her to their beds every other night. Probably found her on the corner of some street, eager to be called filthy names by anyone with enough cash!” 

Hey, at least she was creative with her insults. But Tom’s fury was about to explode. Of course he wasn’t angry for himself, but for you. And Emma noticed the sore spot. 

Just as he was about to fling a response back, the doorbell rang. The blood from both Tom and Emma’s face drained immediately staring at the open kitchen door in horror. A sense of dread filled the room and no one moved for a whole minute. 

You stood slowly, taking it upon yourself to make sure the door got answered. It didn’t look like Tom had the bravery to do it this time, so it was up to you to help. What were you supposed to do? Normally, you could play referee for these kind of situations, but you had no authority until Tom gave it to you. Instead you were forced to watch what might be the undoing to all the progress you’d watched Tom have. 

You opened the door, find an elderly woman standing there, her face filled with a firmness that spoke of strength and stubbornness. This is who the two grown adults in the kitchen were terrified of. There was a steel to her as she took in your appearance, clearly expecting her son to answer the door. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Hiddleston. Tom and Emma are currently waiting in the kitchen if you’d like to come in,” you greeted grimly, wishing the circumstances had been better for you to finally meet Tom’s family. 

She gave you a quick once over and you immediately knew where Tom got his eyes from. Diana Hiddleston had the same intense stare and beautifully blue eyes, the same nose and mouth, the features you knew on someone so different, it was disconcerting. 

“Thank you,” she answered with a nod before immediately coming inside and making her way to the kitchen. It made you feel thoroughly dismissed, but she wasn’t your patient. Tom was and you would be there as long as he needed it. 

When the two of you entered the kitchen, Emma was sitting by the counter with her head in her hands and Tom was hunched over back in his seat. It was his natural defense, you’d come to realize. When he was himself, truly whole, he never minded taking up space with his long limbs, but he crumbled in on himself like this. He was trying to take up the least space possible. 

The silence continued on as Mrs. Hiddleston looked at both of her children, neither able to meet her gaze beyond a glance. Unable to let the tension go any longer, you interrupted with an offer for tea. 

“No, thank you. I won’t be staying long enough for that,” she answered curtly. Her gaze never left her children. You nodded in understanding before walking back to the table and taking your seat once more. 

The tension grew once more as nothing was said from the three of them. Tom’s hand found yours once again, clutching at it desperately, needing some sort of reassurance while this thing blew over. Mrs. Hiddleston took in the movement with the arch of her aristocratic eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“I think this talk might go over better with just family present, don’t you, Tom?” She insinuated with a nod towards you. 

Tom clutched at your hand harder as his body began to visibly tremble. There was no way he’d be able to respond, but it wasn’t a good idea just from taking a look at his state for you to leave. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think I should stay for Tom’s sake,” you asserted firmly. You wouldn’t be bullied, not when your client was at risk. Funny how client had quickly become friend. 

Her eyes narrowed and you could hear the intake of breath from both Tom and Emma at your refusal, but you stood your ground with resolve. God, you wished you could take control of the chaos ensuing just for a moment and let this happen in a healthy way. 

“Emma, come sit at the table,” Mrs. Hiddleston demanded, her voice never changing in its volume, but it was immediately obeyed by a trembling young woman who sank into the seat furthest from Tom. Then mom sat down, folding her hands in front of herself and pulling her shoulders back. 

“Alright,” she began, much like a meeting would begin. “We are going to talk this out. Right here and now. And then, Emma, you are coming with me and you will go back to Rehab, whether you like it or not. I will not endure any tantrum throwing about it, so you might as well get all your fuss out now.” 

She looked over at Tom, taking in the way he sat and his hand in yours, but never quite seeing the same thing you did. She looked at him like one might look at a dog who just ripped up the favorite couch cushion and was hiding in the corner. Not like a broken man. “Tom, I’d like to know how long Emma was here before you decided to call me,” she interrogated. 

“She got here last night,” he answered quietly. 

“And why did you wait so long to call me?” 

“I didn’t know,” he whispered softly, staring at the wood table in front of him like he was trying to memorize every inch of it. “I didn’t know she’d run away from rehab until I called.”

Emma snorted from her position at the table, finally breaking her silence. “Maybe if you had actually answered my calls for once, you’d know,” she retorted. 

“Thomas didn’t answer your calls because I don’t him I didn’t want him to have any more contact with you, Emma,” Mrs.Hiddleston informed. You saw Tom flinch out of the corner of your eye at the statement and slowly began to realize what was going on. 

The silence grew once again as you put two and two together. For some reason, probably accusations thrown by Emma when her addiction was discovered, Tom was being blamed by his family for the situation his sister was in. And shunned for it, if things were as serious as they appeared to be. 

No wonder he shattered. 

“And Emma, why did you decide to leave rehab?” Mrs. Hiddleston asked, sympathy completely leached from her tone. 

A tiny sob escaped Emma as she avoided her mother’s gaze. Tears fell rapidly down her pretty face, distorting it immediately. “Ma, I just couldn’t stay. It hurt so much and I couldn’t stop shaking. And there were so many people there who’d been dealing with withdrawal for years.. I just don’t know if I can do it,” she cried.

“You can and you will,” Mrs. Hiddleston intoned, compassion still completely distant from her voice. “You brought this upon yourself, even if your brother introduced it to you. And these are the consequences of your decisions.” 

Well, that was a new approach. Less hatred and emotionality, more determined change. Too many families would have let that kind of show of emotion change their mind and cause them to waver, or on the split side have resulted in rage. While more kindness could and should be afforded, Mrs. Hiddleston wasn’t far from achieving the very kind of behavior you trained families of addicts to maintain.

That didn’t lessen your own anger you felt as you felt Tom flinch again at the reminder of blame, an intentional jab at her son. If you’d had the chance to coach her, this would have never happened. Unless Tom himself was caught up in drugs and convinced his sister to take some, it was not his fault. And from what you’ve personally watched and taken in from his behavior, there was no withdrawal or signs of an addict. No, he wasn’t to blame. And it was just way of misdirecting her anger because she feels she can’t be angry at the addict. 

“Emma,” she began once more. “If something needs to change, I’ll talk with the doctors to see if I can come more often to give you the support you need to get better. But there will be no escaping the pain. You’d never learn if it didn’t hurt.” Emma continued to sob, but nodded at her words nonetheless. “Head out to the car. I’ll be out in a moment and we’ll head back,” she directed. Emma obeyed tearily and left the kitchen immediately. 

You had a bad feeling she was about to round on Tom and lay into him the minute Emma left and the silence grew. The shaking in Tom’s body grew steadily as the seconds ticked by, even though it was probably no more than 15 seconds of silence in total. 

“I wanted to thank you for telling me Emma was here,” she thanked distantly, like she couldn’t be bothered to show any affection towards her own son. “I trust if she runs again to your doorstep, you’ll inform me sooner.”

Tom nodded, still not saying anything in response. Mrs.Hiddleston stood, ready to leave without a goodbye. But just as she was a few steps away from the kitchen door, Tom stopped her with a soft “Ma”. 

She turned to face her only son, her every feature guarded. Tom looked up at her from where he sat, his face holding a little bit of hope that you could quickly see was about to be crushed. “I was wondering… If Emma… If she needs someone there… can I try to be there for her when she needs help?” He asked, clearly desperate for the permission to be part of the family again. 

Your heart shattered. He didn’t deserve this. Any professional distance you had been able to maintain was torn from you in that moment as you watched him ask just to be there for his sister, to be accepted as worthy of even caring for his family. Your own tears threatened to fall for him as you swallowed around the lump in your throat. 

“No, Thomas,” Mrs. Hiddleston answered cooly. “I have no desire to have you anywhere near her. You put her in this position, letting her go to your parties filled with all the lure your fame held and there’s no surprised she got hooked on it. You can make your own decisions, sleep with whomever you’d like,” she said with a nod toward you, “And take as many drugs as you can until you kill yourself, but you won’t drag Emma along with you anymore. And you certainly won’t make us watch you do it either.” She finished with a twist of her heel as she headed out the door, her short white hair as still and immovable as she was. 

By the end of her little speech, Tom’s whole body had begun shaking uncontrollably and you could hear the small gasps he was trying to keep quiet, signaling another panic attack was about to happen, this one probably worse than any others 

The minute she walked out the door, you drew Tom into your arms, holding him against your chest, letting him hear your breaths and focus on your heartbeat. You could feel the flutter of his pounding heart against his skin and gently tried to do anything that would help, running your fingers through his hair and across the contours of his face. 

But nothing was going to work this time. The moment his family shunned him and blamed him for Emma’s choices, he’d snapped. The strength he held onto despite some of his inner struggles completely disappeared and he’d spiraled. No wonder he’d tried to take his life as he sat alone, in complete despair. And they just did it again. 

“Tom?” You called, pulling him away enough from your chest to try to look him in the face. “Tom?!” But he didn’t respond, his breathing gasping and choking like he was going in anaphylactic shock. Shit.

You quickly ran into your room and grabbed the pill case you kept under lock and key in case of emergencies. He needed something to calm him down and quick or he’d black out from lack of oxygen. You picked the small white pills out and ran back towards the kitchen, only to find him on the floor, sobbing and heaving. 

“Tom, I need you to take this,” you pleaded softly, grabbing for the orange juice on the table before holding them out to him. He didn’t move for either of your hands, as he continued to gasp. 

Desperate times… You put the pill in the orange juice and took the drink in your mouth. You had approximately less than 5 seconds before the tranq started to dissolve and you’d be the one to pass out. With a deliberate placement of your mouth against his, it shocked him enough to paused his quick breaths for a moment and you could put the orange juice in his mouth without being worried about him choking on it. He swallowed the orange juice successfully, much to your happiness. 

“It’s going to be ok, Tom. Just try to breathe with me, ok?” You soothed, taking obvious and dramatic breaths for him to copy. It would take 30 seconds for the pill to take effect and at least a full minute before he’d start falling asleep, due to the erratic pumping of his heart. The goal was to try to make sure he didn’t hurt himself until the drug took effect. 

With hysterical patients, there were a few different options to try to control these kind of reactions for the safety of the patient. If it happened consistently, the patient would be put on a mild sedative as a daily dose to keep them calm. If it was an occasional hysterical episode, most doctors would rely on injecting a tranquilizer for an immediate change. But you have to be able to find a vein and not do serious damage to the patient for the shot form. And considering you were one person and you didn’t have any help, pills were the only option. Of course, he should also be put on a regular Antidepressant, but both Tom and Luke were adamant that he needed to avoid it for privacy reasons, despite your assurances you could be discreet. But that’s what happens when society puts a stigma on those who take medicine for their mental illness, whether short term or long term.

You watched slowly the drug slowly take Tom away from the edge as his breathing began to slow and his eyes began to droop, though never fully taking his eyes off yours. Truth was, you got lucky with the kiss freezing him up enough for him to swallow. It was something you noticed, a trained response to kissing, he immediately paused at first contact before taking a deep breath in through his nose. You had literally a second for him to swallow. And you were so thankful it worked. 

Tom’s body slowly uncurled in your arms and relaxed as he escaped into the oblivion of sleep, no longer tormented by the demons who’d remind him daily of the hatred and disappointment in his love one’s eyes. You held him for much longer than you needed to, your own tears falling over this beautiful man who didn’t deserve the pain he was experiencing. 


	8. The Turning of the Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am sincerely sorry about the delay in all my works! My computer broke down and I had no way to really get any writing done for months!!!! But I finally got it fixed and will be able to pound some chapters out for your favorite works soon!
> 
> All that being said, this is kind of where our story starts to shift. Beware the smut in the chapter. After the horrible experience of the last chapter, Tom does make a rather quick recovery, or well, I don't draw out the recovery time period. If that feels rushed to you all, I apologize. I have a difficult time lingering on severe depressive episodes right now as I've had mu own set backs mental health wise as of late. 
> 
> As always, feedback is super duper appreciated!!!!

Somehow you’d managed to drag Tom’s unconscious body to his bedroom, giving him the necessary space to sleep comfortably. And you’d make sure he wasn’t alone when he woke. He’d feel the most suicidal he’s felt in quite a long time the minute he regained consciousness, the after affects of both the tranq and hyperventilating amplifying the severity.

You lost track of how long you cried for him, watching his sleeping face that couldn't even seem to find peace in sleep. As a therapist, family situations can so often be a trigger for those dealing with severe depression, but you'd never watched it up close. Empathy is one thing, but seeing it happen… how the hell were you supposed to maintain professionalism?

The reality is you had no idea how to handle this. If Tom didn't recover this time, there was no choice but to put him in an institution that could give him the kind of care he needed. You'd give anything to give Diana Hiddleston a piece of your mind, just for the hope that it might make a difference, but you had a confidentiality agreement you couldn't break. No matter how you felt, you were still hired, which meant you had rules to follow. 

After an hour or two, Tom began to wake up slowly. You almost didn't notice until you looked up and found his eyes open, staring at the ceiling intently. He looked so broken and devastated, like this was the one thing that made him give up. Any spark of life, of fear or emotion had completely left those beautiful blue eyes of his. 

“Hey Tom,” you whispered softly. He didn't respond. Hell, he didn't even blink. “How are you doing? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Still, he didn't respond. There was absolutely nothing to give you hope that you could try to help him put himself back together. Fear ran through your bones as you made sure he was at least breathing, as that was the only apparent movement in his entire body. 

“Ok, Tom. I'm going to get you some water, ok?” You informed him softly before heading to the kitchen. Instead of getting the water immediately, you began to grab anything sharp, including kitchen knives and his razors, made sure there were no pills hiding somewhere, and double checked that all sheets were under lock and key. For the first time, you were afraid for his life.

You also sent a quick text message to Luke, telling him you needed to meet with him today. Time to call in the Calvary. 

  
  


“So what happened?” Luke asked, sitting across from you exactly three hours after you sent your message. There was something to be said about a manager being that involved.

The two of you were sitting in Tom’s living room, the door to his bedroom wide open so you could keep an eye on your patient. “Honestly, something that was bound to happen eventually,” you answered, running your fingers through your hair. “I just wish you guys had been upfront in the beginning so I knew it was coming”.

“I'd wanted to tell you from the beginning,” Luke explained. “But with the treatment he was already facing, Tom didn't feel like he could be honest without doing even more damage.”

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain control of your rising temper. “I let his sister be in this house. I let him call his mother for God’s sake!” You yelled, more frustrated with yourself than anyone else. “Had I known I could have done something to protect him from this!”

“You’re right. We should have saw this coming and prepared you,” he agreed softly, looking about exhausted as you felt.

Silence was the only answer that you had. There was no point in letting yourself get into the blame game. You refocused, looking over at Tom laying there in his bed. “We've got to do something, Luke. I can't watch him all the time and he needs around the clock care. I know you guys are worried about it getting out, but I don't know I can help him on my own!” 

“There's got to be something else,” Luke pleaded. “When Tom comes out of this, he should have a life to look forward to. This kind of thing could destroy his career.”

You were expecting this, but your figure the best way to find a compromise is to throw out the worst situation first to get what you wanted. “Fine,” you conceded reluctantly, “but I'm putting him on antidepressants and I'm getting some in house care workers. If he has another episode like earlier, I need help. I also can't watch him every second of every day. These are my conditions, otherwise I will be forced to act as I'm supposed to according to the law”.

“Ok, you've got it. Everything you need, it's yours. If it will help Tom, then I won't stand in the way,” Luke answered. 

You nodded your thanks, standing to walk into the doorway of Tom’s room. Those blue eyes were still staring unblinkingly into some strange distance, searching for meaning or feeling once more. You looked back at Luke, suddenly determined to deal with one last issue. 

“One more thing,” you began, “I want his family told. It is my preference that I would be able to tell them as his therapist, just the reality of what he's going through and as an expert in the area of substance abuse who can help them. But if not me, someone has to.” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply when you heard a croaking “no” from the bed. You looked back at Tom to find him staring at you desperately. Relief washed over you as you took in the first real response you had in hours. 

You walked over to his bedside to speak with him personally. “Tom, please understand. I'm obligated to do something here. They need to know the truth, both about your sister and you if they are going to realize the consequences of their behavior. I won't allow another situation like today,” you tried to convince. 

“No”, Tom whispered. His eyes held yours with a single determination that almost made you waver in your stance. 

You took one of his hands in yours, holding it softly in a move that was probably below you and kept fighting. “Tom, I'm a therapist. If I'm worried about your well being, I'm obligated by law to say something to your loved ones. If I don't, I could get sued, lose my practice, and my license. They need to know the truth,” you put your foot down. 

“As my friend,” he started, the hand in yours clutching desperately. “No”.

You threw both of your hands up in frustration, forcing Tom to let go. Luke stood in the doorway giving you a “what can you do?” Kind of look. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you, like a muzzle of guilt that would not allow you the freedom you needed. 

Your eyes closed as you pinched the bridge of your nose with your forefinger and thumb. “This is the last time, Tom”, you warned, thoroughly put out. “If things get too rough or you try to hurt yourself again, I'm telling your family whether you guilt trip me or not. And that's my final offer”.

Tom nodded, a movement just barely noticeable to you, but his eyes still stayed on you even as you walked out of the room to finish discussing details with Luke. Perhaps the extra warning would get Tom to at least start fighting again. 

  
  
  


A few weeks later and life had settled back into routine. There were caretakers around most days, whether they just gave you a break or sat in the same room as Tom when you made food. As a rule, you chose to stay by his side as much as possible because you were managing to get a response from him. He was talking, little by little. And you were determined to keep working with him.

Nights were still yours as you continued to sleep next to him, allowing yourself the freedom to comfort him as platonically as possible. You could handle the bruises in the morning from his nightmares, even if he felt guilty for them. As long as he wasn't alone all night. 

It took a good week or two just to get Tom halfway active again. At first, he was struggling just to get out bed when you tried to get him to come to the dining room. Food was practically out of the question until you volunteered to put an IV in him, just to keep him from starving. When you tried to get him to go out for a walk with you, he literally sprinted to a dark corner of the house, making you and the on call caretaker search for him for a good 20 minutes. When you found him, he was hyperventilating and it took you another 20 minutes just to call him down. 

You were thankful to have others around you to give you strength to keep working with Tom. As difficult and frustrating as it continued to be, the encouragement of others who were also professionals helped to remind you that relapses are normal. Little progress is better than no progress. And no matter how hopeless it seems, there is always recovery on the horizon. 

Thankfully, Emma didn't come back around and neither did Mrs. Hiddleston, giving time for Tom to slowly put himself back together. And slowly but surely, he opened his heart and let down his walls, allowing you to help him put the pieces back together. You were so immensely proud of the progress he made every day, the strength to get back up after he fell again. 

About a month after the incident, you were comfortable enough to let Tom have his razors back. That also meant a level of privacy would be invaded for a little while when he chose to shower or shave, but you allowed one of the caretakers to be there for that. You didn't know if you could handle the sight of him naked and that close to you.

Somewhere in the middle of this, you came to the realization that you were in love with Tom. Not an infatuation or an obsession, but a genuine love for this man you had no right to claim. More than empathy or motherly concern, you desired both him and his happiness. Every little victory made you soar with pride. Every defeat made you want to kiss every tear away and soothe his shattered heart. How you managed to let yourself get so out of hand to actually fall in love with a patient was completely beyond you, but it had happened nonetheless. 

If Tom continued to progress as he had been, you’d take some time off and try to get your head back on straight. These emotions were probably just a result of close quarters with a beautiful man, which unfortunately spoke to your own lack of human companionship. You made mental notes and plans to spend some time with Maria, a friend of yours in the business that you’d grown steadily closer to over the years. How could you continue to be of help to others when you were emotionally compromised? 

  
  


One night as you slept next to this man you'd fallen for, he woke you in the middle of night with another one of his violent nightmares. You instantly moved into action, pinning down his arms keeping him from hurting himself while trying to wake him up softly. 

Your voice brought him back to reality as he stared up at you in that same stark terror you'd come to understand. Continuing to soothe him, you let his breathing slow and calming him to the best of your ability. 

You no longer flinched at the fact that he held you tight against him, his face buried in your chest. It had become so perfunctory that you'd hardly noticed it anymore as something sexual. It was comfort to you. 

Until he began to draw lines on your body, moving from where they hugged you around your back to touch you freely. You thought that perhaps he didn't mean anything by it until you felt a distinct hardness rubbing against your pajama pants.

You immediately moved off him, putting space in between your now throbbing body and his searching hands. “Tom, what are you doing?” You asked softly, trying not to sound too harsh in your rejection. 

“Fuck…” he gasped softly, rubbing at his face to try and dispel the emotion you could clearly see was on the brink of exploding. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered as he stood from the bed in one quick motion, beginning an anxious pace on the floor. 

You sat up on your knees and tried to get him to call down. “Tom, it's okay. I'm not mad. I just wanted to know why, but please don't start beating yourself up, it's really okay”, you tried to soothe. 

“No, it's not!” Tom yelled a little, his hands running through his hair wildly. “I just… fuck…. I know why we can’t, I just…”

“Take your time. Get out what you need to say,” you coached, knowing the emotion was overriding his ability to communicate. 

Tom stopped in front of you, taking deep breaths as he tried to gain his control back. The tears in his eyes wrenched at your heart more than you thought they were capable of doing. Probably because he was starting to look so much more put together, finally healing and here you'd caused him pain. 

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cried. “There's so much pain and so much agony and I just want it all to stop! It's too much and I just feel like I can't breathe all the time! I just… I just need you to help me!” He pleaded, though clearly conflicted and hurting about even asking you. 

Maybe it was the shock or the pause of your encouragements, but he quickly reiterated himself. “I don’t mean I actually need you to he… Oh fuck…” Tom’s body language became more anxious with each passing second, trying to explain something that he wasn’t sure how to put into words. “I just… God, I really just… need to feel again… Something, anything…”

As he whimpered out those words, Tom practically collapsed in on himself, falling to the floor as his hands shielded himself and his tears from your eyes. Before he hit the floor, you were out of the bed, kneeling next to this giant of a man who’d managed to curl into the size of a large ball. 

No matter what he was asking of you, you didn’t stop comforting him. Because the truth at that moment was you were willing to put your livelihood on the line if it would mean that Tom felt better, that he found a happiness to cling to. The only reason you chose to hesitate was because it wouldn’t help him in the end. Self medicating with sex can not only be dangerous in the sense of developing addictions, but also, could put the relationship you maintained with him under considerable duress. You couldn’t help him if he didn’t trust you.

Tom sat there, no fully weeping, but trying to get control of his breathing on his own. His hair stylist had come to clean him up just a few days ago, shearing off the thick curls and smoothing them to accent his beautiful bone structure. You couldn’t keep your hands from playing with the ends as you tried to help him, mesmerized by the changes of your patient. Your love. He was almost back to the man with a national audience and a charming smile. 

After a moment, he looked up at you, his eyes watering with unshed tears, but a familiar despair hiding in them. Your hands moved from his hair to soothe the lines in his face, an almost unconscious attempt to rid his beautiful face of such pain. He leaned into the warmth of your touch with a soft sigh of relief, like you were the lifeline he needed to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly. “I shouldn’t have asked you at all. You don’t deserve to become the new pill to my pain. Sometimes, it just feels like this gaping black hole inside of me that I will never be able to fill completely. And I keep thinking that if I just put on a good face and ignore it, it will disappear, but it comes back in my dreams. What if I never really get better and these dreams haunt me forever? Will it ever end?” He pleaded, his eyes full of desperation.

In the future, you may try to explain your actions away as misguided kindness, but the moment those words left his lips, you knew you didn't have another choice. Your love for him was going to do everything possible to ease his pain, even if sex wasn't a healthy way to do so. But if you could make even just a little bit of difference, you’d do it. 

What if just for a little while, you could show him that it does get better? What if you could show him that light at the end of the tunnel even for a moment? You’d carry years of guilt and failure if it meant just one spark of hope, one promise that it does get better. It didn’t feel selfish. Maybe it was, but that was for some deep soul searching years in the future. This moment demanded action, and you’d always choose him. 

Without another moment of hesitation, you leaned forward against his knees that were curled to his chest and kissed him softly. The both of you needed the reassurance that you wanted to give him this, that it wasn’t a hurried decision of passion, but a clear sacrifice. Yes, there was a part of you that sincerely wanted him, but that’s not what this moment was about.

The tenderness of his reaction made your eyes sting with unshed tears as his nimble fingers wrapped themselves in your hair, pulling you ever closer to him. When his warm tongue sought entrance, you gave it without pause. You were offering every moment freely without hesitance or fight, giving your very soul over to fill the lost pieces of him.

Maybe he understood the sacrifice of your choice, maybe that’s why he pressed your body against his like he was shielding you from the thoughts and feelings you must be experiencing. The guilt, the second guessing, every little self hating memoir to the strong woman you once considered yourself to be, faded to the background in his arms. There was only him. 

You leaned back just enough to look into his beautiful eyes for a moment. He stared at you with an openness and trust that nearly shattered you immediately, but you weren’t about to deny him. Leaning forward, you caught his lips again, a reassurance to his own battle in his mind, before releasing him once more. 

“I think the bed might be more comfortable, Tom,” you whispered softly, nodding up at the tangled sheets that had once contained your sleeping forms. 

He blushed before nodding, letting you get out of his arms to stand up, before standing up besides you. You could feel his eyes on you with every movement, perhaps searching for hesitance, or disgust, but you just gave your best reassuring smile.

Tom’s skin glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window as he stood in front of you, looking much too beautiful to be real. Your hands suddenly took on a mind of their own to map the contours of his bare chest, a clothing choice he kept even with your continued presence in his bed. He was all bones and angles and hard muscle, but his skin was like the softest of silks to the touch. 

He inhaled sharply at your light touch, his eyes closing to enjoy the sensation thoroughly. You found you rather enjoyed his sensitive reactions as you mapped out his collarbones, wide shoulders, pectorals, and rib cage. The small line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers teased you, promising so much more. You played with the band, careful not to let it snapback, but waited for Tom to look back at you before continuing.

After a shaky breath, he opened those stark blue eyes to steal a glimpse into your very soul. “Are you sure about this, Tom? Because we can stop now if you’d like. I would never make you do something you don’t want to do,” you offered lowly, desperately searching for his consent.

“I’m sure,” Tom answered after a second. “I think I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a while.”

With that, he brought his lips back down to yours and met them with all the physical evidence you needed to know he was consenting. You clung to his lanky body as the passion raged between your lips. Gone was the hesitance and fear, leaving only a need that curled deep within your center to set you aflame for this beautiful man. 

Tom nudged you backwards until your knees hit the bed, his lips never leaving yours as you managed to push yourself into the middle of his giant bed with him on top of you. Air wasn’t really an option as the two of you clung to each other. But you found you didn’t care if you ended up dying from asphyxiation, for you were in one of the most blissful moments of your existence. 

His hands wandered down the length of your body, pulling you against him over and over, letting you feel his hardness pressing against your burning core. They mapped the curves of your body, hiking your knee up around his waist and brushing the undersides of your breasts in you were moaning into his kiss like a madwoman. Only then did he even bother starting to unbutton the pajama top you were wearing. 

You tried not to think about the implications of his experience as he managed to get your shirt completely unbuttoned in under 10 seconds, leaving your breasts open to the cold air. For a while, you’d worn a bra to bed to keep from feeling improper while sleeping with Tom, but after a few nights of bad back pain and discomfort, you’d decided against it. Now, you were grateful for the ease as he stopped kissing you to groan at the sight of your warm breasts in the soft moonlight.

Instead of resuming the kiss, he began to kiss down your neck, sucking softly on your collar bones and sternum, brushing his lips against the undersides of your breasts while his agile fingers got to work on your nipples. You were practically trembling with want as his warm mouth closer over one, the anticipation of what was to come making the experience even more powerful. His experience was not to be mocked as he had you panting under the diligent attentions of his mouth against your breasts. 

Somehow, in the middle of his assault, you found your pajama pants were slipping down your legs by his clever hands before they were thrown off the bed in an annoyed manner. A gust of air from his movement hit your drenched underwear and you were suddenly made aware of just how much your body was reacting to his actions. Sopping was an understatement. 

Tom let out another groan as he took a deep breath through his nose, catching the heavy scent of you in the air. His gaze met yours, baring the look of pure lust and desire to your eyes, causing an immediate stirring in your core. If he were to even just keep staring at you like that, you were sure you’d cum, no help needed. That look should be a sin. 

His deft fingers peeled away your lace underwear, pulling it to the side just enough to graze the place where you were literally throbbing in need for him. He immediately found your clit, much to your surprise, and had you moaning uninhibited, filled with the most furious longings and babblings. He never once let up, bringing your quickly to orgasm as his mouth latched onto your nipple and his fingers danced along your clit furiously. 

You came down slowly, given space to experience this pure bliss he put you through. Of course the minute or two allowed for your head to explode in a hundred thousand different thoughts you had no interest in thinking. A patient just made you cum. You were naked in front of your patient. You’d broken so many laws and rules just by sleeping in the same bed as him for past 6 months, by not telling his family, by trying to be his friend first and foremost. And now? Now, you could kiss your career, your name, your business, your life goodbye. 

Tom sat back on his heels, just staring at you as you tried to keep yourself from getting visibly upset. It wouldn’t do anything helpful to show him the level of self hatred you were experiencing, so you tried to keep it under wraps. 

A long finger brushed the hair out of your face gently, bringing your attention back to him. He looked at you with concern and worry, letting you know that you didn’t hide things good enough for him not to see. 

“We can stop now if you’d like,” he whispered, every feature looking guilty. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked for this.”

That’s all it took. Just his guilt and an apology for something that wasn’t even remotely his fault and your head shut up. He needed you and he would get you because that’s the type of person you were. There was nothing you wouldn’t sacrifice for the person you loved. 

You shook your head before grabbing his hand and kissing his palm, lingering there before traveling up his wrist and forearm. Your lips traced every vein you could find, kissed every freckle and scar, as you explored him softly. He would know you loved him at this moment, that he was more than enough, that he had nothing to feel guilty for. 

Up his shoulder to his neck where you made sure to leave a few soft bites, to his lips, you kissed him tenderly. Pulling away just enough to look him in the eye, you finally gave him an answer, the verbal consent he was looking for. “I wouldn’t stop this for anything, Tom. And there is nothing I would like more than for you to make love to me right here on this bed,” you reassured.

Tom immediately sprung into action, meeting your lips once more in dance of renewed desire as he covered his body with your own. You let your hands wander, tracing the contours of his wide back and the sharp bones of his hips that made for the perfect grip of your thighs. The way you seemed to fit together made you breathless, your hands pulling at the waistband of his boxers to grasp his round ass. He responded by thrusting his very hard penis against your naked core, causing the both of you to groan at the friction. It was time to get this over with.

You pulled his boxers down, careful to pull it over his jutting cock as it became open to your eyes, standing there proud for your inspection. All you could think was the word “fuck” while Tom kicked his boxers off the rest of the way and positioned himself at your entrance. You were officially ruined for any other man. Leave it to Tom Hiddleston to make you dissatisfied with anyone who might come after. 

He caught your gaze as you exchanged an intense look. This was it. No going back after this happened, but neither of you was very keen to stop things. In fact, your legs wrapped around his waist tighter and pulled him down just a bit, causing him to slip inside of you with a loud moan from the both of you. 

Tom stopped wasting time and began slowly pushing himself inside of you to the hilt. Your body groaned at the intrusion, tight from a long time without sex and unused to his size, but the stretch felt so wonderful at the same time. Once completely inside, he pulled away just enough to slam back into you with ease. Clearly, your body didn’t need much help providing lubrication. 

A slow, undulating rhythm was built, crescendoing and falling as he willed it, his body truly making love to your own. Had you had even half a brain cell left to think, you’d have been ashamed of the noises and moans that were coming out of your mouth with every thrust into your warm, needy center. But then you’d have taken into account the noises he was making as well and it would have done a fair bit to your ego. 

He was an artist, never quite letting you cum, completely in control as he brought you to the edge and back over and over again. How any woman who’d ever experienced this could walk away absolutely blew your mind. You clung to him with all the strength you had left to give, allowing yourself to be as caught up into the moment as he was.

You had no idea how much time had past when his rhythm had finally begun to stutter, a weakness finally evident in this sex god who was making love to you. He let your orgasm build once more, angling his thrusts to hit the spots inside of you that made stars explode in the blackness behind your eyes. But this time, instead of letting it fall again, he brought you to the edge, the both of your gasping for air and release until your orgasms exploded from your bodies in perfect synchronicity. 

The last thing you remember was his arms wrapping around you as you lost consciousness.


	9. Leaving My Heart Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second to last chapter before the end! As sad as I am for this story to be finished, I feel like I've been working on this so long that it will be rather nice to focus on another project. 
> 
> That being said, this chapter is filled with a lot of sadness and pain. It's rather short, but I don't really do drawn out, agonizing goodbye's. No, this one felt perfect in its length. 
> 
> As always, feedback is loved and appreciated!

Morning would come too soon, breaking through your peaceful rest with the horror of the light of day. There was no denying the idiocy of your choice or the damage it would do if you didn’t get up and get moving before in home care showed up. Even the comfort of Tom’s arms wrapped around you wasn’t enough to block out the pounding of your heart. 

It was over. Your career now had a deadline. Maybe it would slip out when some overzealous journalist decided to get some crazy scoop about some celebrity’s new therapist, or maybe Tom would decide to sue when he was better and realized that you took advantage of him. Even if that was never your intention. Tom wasn’t exactly in the best mind to be making healthy decisions and it was your responsibility to not let those actions lead to something that could be so detrimental. 

But you’d failed. And now, the impressive life you’d built was going to fall apart in a catastrophic mess, probably get sued for millions upon millions, and might even get some jail time. You were a licensed Psychiatrist. How dare you abuse your position simply because you were taking care of a man that no woman could help but want. 

Consumed by your self hatred, you slipped out of bed, grabbing your clothes, and running to the guest shower. Maybe you’d be able to scrub away the remnants of last night. Maybe you’d find a way to put it behind you and forget it if you could stop feeling his hands on your skin and the ache from places that hadn’t been touched in much too long. 

But you don’t think you could ever forget Tom. 

The way he stared into your soul, the way he left you breathless without an ounce of effort. The sounds that escaped his beautiful mouth as you explored him and he explored you in return. The feel of his body melding with yours like a symphony of musicians working together to create the most beautiful sounds to ever grace the ears of humanity.

Your heart couldn’t take it. As much as all of your self preservation wanted to get out quickly and save what you could, Tom was too important to you. But you were doing more damage than good by letting this relationship happen at all, undoing the work he so desperately fought for to keep himself together. And it was your fault. 

The water pounded your sore body as your mind ran in circle after circle.You needed to take a step back and reevaluate what Tom really needed from you at this moment and what would be truly working in his best interest. Getting caught in your own cycle of destructive thoughts would just keep you from the productivity he needed right now. 

But the real question was if you’d be capable of helping him at all from this point forward? In developing a new closeness and dependency, Tom was taking some major steps back in his healing process, steps that would make you leaving one day, the necessary separation for him to figure out life on his own, nearly impossible without doing some severe damage. The best thing you could do was leave. 

The thought landed in your head much like a dirty bomb, sending all the chaos into millions of pieces as this one thought pounded in your head over and over. You had to leave. Not just for yourself, but for Tom. And the sooner the better. But you had no way of knowing how he’d react to you just leaving, with no one to take care of him and watch over his recovery. 

A plan slowly began to weave its way into the center focus of your thoughts. If all was going to work out for the best of everyone, you’d have to cancel the your contract, giving you the ability to go speak to his family, hopefully talk some sense into them. You’d give them the name of a colleague you trusted wholeheartedly that he could continue his healing with. And you’d give Tom back all the money that had been deposited since you started working for him.  You had more than enough in your accounts to give the money back and still get a plane back to the states. 

This was for the best. But you couldn’t deny how your heart broke under the pressure of what you were about to do. 

  
  


“Why?”

That one question tugged at your heart strings like the hulk himself had decided to play marionette with your heart. His sad blue eyes looked straight into your soul, filled with betrayal and heartache. What he didn’t know was how much this was going to hurt the both of you.

It was several hours since your fateful shower, where you’d made breakfast, said you had to run into town for some things, and got everything you needed to make a clean break. It was late afternoon now, judging by the golden light hitting Tom, turning him into a beautiful angel. The contract and the money sat between you on the living room table where you’d dropped them, still untouched by the person they were intended for. 

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Because I made a mistake, Tom. I broke your trust and my word as your therapist. I’ve damaged you in ways that I could never fix and you need the time to get better without someone taking advantage of you,” you tried to explain, your heart wrenching with every word.

“No,” He answered, shaking his head in time with his words. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine. You haven’t taken advantage of me, please believe me! All you’ve done is help me! How am I supposed to get better if you’re not there?” His tears were falling steadily, begging you to stay with every drop.

You stood, grabbing your suitcases you had packed before breakfast, unable to look at him any longer without giving in. “You will, Tom. You’ll get better, you’ll be you again. You are so close even now. And I’m the only thing standing in the way of you and that completeness you deserve to feel. Luke already has the number of someone who you can talk to, who you can trust like you did me as your therapist. He will work with you so you’re not alone in these last few stages,” you tried to convince. In the end, you knew your words fell short, doing nothing to soothe the pain in his heart. 

“I told you once. Don’t lie to me,” Tom stood alongside you, anger edging into his tone. “If you don’t, or didn’t, want me, all you had to do was say so. Don’t try to disguise your leaving as anything but escaping the person who disgusts you.”

You turned to look at him, taking in his pain and the anger, seeing his growth from the man who would have just stayed in his seat while these thoughts ran through his mind like a train wreck. Let him be angry at you. Let him hate you. It was better that way. 

His face was close enough for you to reach up and kiss him, something you found yourself incapable of stopping yourself from doing, just one last time. All of your anxiety and worry and love went into that kiss, wishing you could pour that love into the broken places of his being and let it fill him until he was complete once again. He kissed you like a desperate man, holding onto you with so much strength you worried you might bruise. 

You finally release him with a sudden step backwards as you take in the beautiful man in front of you. Breath escaped him like a freight train just as it did you, as the kiss lasted long after both of your lungs were burning for air. You’d give anything to not have to leave, to never leave his side, but you couldn’t. For his sake. So you imprinted the image of him standing there with pain and love in his eyes, breathing hard and arms reaching out to encompass you once more. 

In a hurried movement, you threw your backpack over your shoulder and grabbed your suitcases. Walking to the door seemed like an impossibly long walk but you did it anyways, knowing he’d follow just to keep his eyes on you. You risked a glance of your shoulder as your hand hit the doorknob. 

“I could never be disgusted with you, Tom. You are everything to me,” You choked out, before leaving with the last ounce of strength you had. What you didn’t see was the way he staggered at your words and cried as he watched you disappear. But even as you drove away, you saw the car of one of the in home care workers pulling in. He wouldn’t be alone. And that was what gave you the last bit of strength to leave. 

  
  


The next day, you found yourself standing in front of a solid red door, waiting patiently for it to be opened. After leaving Tom’s, you got a hotel scheduled a flight for this evening, but you were determined to do one more thing before leaving England. 

The door finally opened, giving way to the sight of Diana Hiddleston in all of her steely and suspicious glory. This was the last piece of the puzzle that had to be taken care of, whether Tom wanted you to or not. You’d already betrayed him, why not try to make his life better.

She let you in, bringing you to the sitting room after you said there was something important you needed to discuss with her about her son. She didn’t offer you tea or biscuits as much as that seemed her style of doing things, instead opting to stare at you intently. 

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak with you, Ma’am,” you began, trying to keep a professional attitude about this woman who’d caused Tom so much pain.

She barely moved to react, keeping her gaze on you. “Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we. Tell me what you’ve come here to see then leave me in peace,” she admonished.

“To begin, I need to explain to you who I am to Tom,” you started to explain. “I am not his girlfriend or his whore as you so gently insinuated during your last visit, but his in home therapist”.

Instead of letting her respond, you launched into the truth, the thing that Tom had been hiding. That Tom tried to commit suicide just 6 months ago after being abandoned by everyone he loved and counted on. That he was dealing with severe depression, anxiety, and was nowhere near the man he once was. That Tom had not been on drugs from the moment you came into contact with him as it was one of your rules to test for and as far as you knew, he’d never been on them. 

Diana’s first response was disbelief and shock, but you’d brought the documents to prove your words. Soon the defensiveness fell away to the realization of what pain her actions had caused her only son. As much as you hated to cause anyone pain, the truth is the best balm in the end. 

You also worked with her to explain the behaviors of her daughter, things you knew from specializing in drug addiction, that blaming it on someone else was a way of dealing with the fear of discovery. That based off facts, unless someone force fed her drugs at a celebrity party, she could have come into contact with illegal substances in many different places in her life. 

The immediate sorrow and repentance that came from Diana was enough to let you forgive her, so thankful her hard heart hadn’t extended beyond reason, beyond proof. This was the mother her son needed, while the hard woman was the mother her daughter needed. And she was more than capable of being both. 

“Your son needs you, Ma’am,” you said in finishing. “I had to do some damage to come here and give you this information because it was against his wishes that you know. But what’s done is done and the one thing Tom needs now more than anything is his mother. Please don’t let the lies of others keep you from standing by his side as he works so hard to get better.”

She wholeheartedly agreed, tears sprinkling her own sharp blue eyes that reminded you so much of Tom’s. This was the last nail in the coffin for everything you’d done for him. You could finally leave in peace knowing that he wouldn’t be alone.

The plane trip home was only a few hours, but felt much longer as your thoughts recounted the past 6 months. You didn’t know how long you had before Tom showed up on your doorstep with court summons because he was suing you for malpractice, but you’d get things in order before that. Whatever it took, you’d be ready for the punishment for your actions if it meant that Thomas William Hiddleston would find himself again. 

You’d left your heart with him and one day he’d bring it back. It didn’t matter to you how much pain he’d bring along with it, as long as you got to see him one last time as the whole man you’d worked so hard to help him become. 


	10. A Wistful Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!!!! I finally can say I finished this lovely story, whether or not everyone feels it ended on the right note. At least I ended it in a happy way after a story filled with such angst and sadness!
> 
> I've got quite a few stories I'm working on still and a few I'll be adding as I finish more. I'm trying not to start any new ones until I work through the ones I already have, so please feel free to check them out and give that wonderful feed back you all are so great at giving! Thank you for your support and interest in this story and I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have!

14 months was all it took. You didn’t think it would be so long before you’d heard from him or his lawyer, but finally, it seemed the time had come. 

You were sitting comfortably in your office, preparing for the sessions you had scheduled for the day when the sweet voice of your secretary, Janet, rang through your desk phone to inform you that a Mr. Hiddleston was in the waiting room and he wanted to speak to you. Everything in you wanted to jump out the window immediately, try to escape the consequences of your actions, but you’d prepared for this. It was time to face your future head on.

With a shaky, “let him in”, you had just seconds before you saw him again. Tom, the wonderful man you’d fallen in love with, that you still missed just being around sometimes. A little over year hadn’t been enough to purge your feelings for him, much to your chagrin. And even if he was only here to take you to court, to make you pay, it would be wonderful just to see his face once more.

The deep red wood of door into your office opened without any hesitancy, forcing you to stand and stop your musing. You couldn’t get lost in your thoughts in a moment like this. 

The rich baritone of Tom’s voice washed over you before you ever saw him. He thanked your secretary warmly, yet even his tone seemed a little different.Your body immediately responded to the sound of those simple words, causing small shivers to run through you. No memory or imaginings could compare to the real thing or how to always made you breathless. Perhaps absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

The first glimpse of him was just as shocking. He stood in your doorway, looking at you so guardedly, his face filled with the apprehension you too felt. The last year had been good to him, allowing him to fill out once more after the horrors of the six months of his recovery. Not that you hadn’t been keeping up on him. Between the first three months with the other therapist you’d set up for him and his move back into the spotlight of the world, you’d stayed informed. Maybe that was more than you deserved to know, but you couldn’t deny the need to make sure you’d made the right decision by leaving him.

You took a deep breath and swallowed against the dryness of your mouth before gesturing for him to come in. “It’s lovely to see you again, Tom. Please, make yourself comfortable,” you greeted softly with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. 

He returned your half smile before turning to sit on the simple couch set up that brought back memories to the both of you of the time before you’d come to live with him. As much as you wanted to hide behind your desk, Tom deserved you out in the open, vulnerable. So together you sat, him on the couch and you in your chair set up opposite from him. This time without any notebooks or facades.

The silence carried on much too long, filling the room with a tension that seemed suffocating. What could be said to make things right? How could you express your regret for the decisions you made? There just wasn't enough words.

So you tried something simple: small talk. 

“How’ve you been, Tom?” You began, cringing inwardly at the awkwardness of your words.

He met your gaze with the same uncomfortable look you were sure was on your own face. “I’ve been relatively good, when you take into account how bad things were a year ago. And you?”

“That’s wonderful to hear” You encouraged with a soft smile. “I’ve been doing well, thank you for asking. How has getting back into working been?”

He shrugged contemplatively, clearly feeling the same tension that was wearing at your professionalism. “It’s been a journey, I suppose, but it is wonderful being able to stay busy once again. I have a support system of friends and family now that help keep me level and not as consumed with the work as I was before. I’m keeping myself healthy this time and I’m not going to let work destroy all the progress I’ve made.”

“I’m proud of you, Tom,” You said, trying to swallow past the guilt that rose in your throat. All this progress, all this growth and instead of being a good piece of it, you’d just been a set back. Maybe now was the time, the opening, to apologize. 

Steading yourself by looking intently away from those fiercely blue eyes, you took a deep breath and began the long awaited apology. “That being said, there’s something I need to say to you. It might be a long time coming, but you deserve to hear it nonetheless.”

“I am sincerely sorry for my actions and the pain I caused you while you were under my care. I abused my power and the trust you placed in me for the sake of my own feelings and desire. You deserved better than that and I betrayed the oath I took, the prestige of my profession, and most of all, you.”

You paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath and blinking back the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Tom stayed silent, listening intently.

“That being said, I also want you to know that I am prepared for whatever actions you choose to pursue. I won’t fight you in any way if you should choose to sue, or to take my credentials away. It is your right and your prerogative to take whatever legal actions you should choose to pursue.”

As you finished your prepared speech, you finally found the courage to look up at him once more. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, hearing every word you said with silent consideration. There was no anger or grief on his features, both of which he deserved to feel in full. But instead of unleashing the brunt of his emotions, he filtered them in a healthy way that made you surge with pride. 

When he finally answered, it was so soft you barely caught it. “Why? Why did you do it?” He asked, his voice gruff and low.

“I…” You started not exactly sure what to say. Out of all the responses you prepared, why was never something you considered. You were fully prepared for yelling and crying and accusations galore, but never why. But even in this, he deserved an answer,

You swallowed slowly, coming to terms with truth of it all, the one thing no one but you knew. “The reason why...I mean, the truth is… As much as I tried to fight it, I fell in love with you. I never expected to, never planned on it. But somehow, in the middle of everything, I found myself loving you, the real you. The person who loves spring and finds his soul in music, who has an irrational obsession with Indiana Jones, who loved his family so much that he’d rather fight on his own than be honest about the pain they caused you. And I loved you too much to say no when I needed to, and I loved you too much to stay after I hurt you.”

The truth, once you began, spilled out of you like water out of a fire hydrant. It had no intention of stopping until you’d managed to tell Tom everything and you were left feeling both empty and free. 

Yet his reaction wasn’t quite as shocked as you expected it to be. He simply gave a small smile, like you’d confirmed his suspicions. Perhaps he was simply gloating over the fact you’d just revealed all of your cards and he was about to enact his vengeance. Either way, it was alarming to say the least.

“You know,” Tom began, his tone filled with the humor of an inside joke, “For awhile after you left, I was completely furious with you. I couldn’t understand how you could leave like that and betray my wishes by telling my family if you ever really cared. After a particular session with Dr. Rhine, I’d been talking to my mother, throwing around accusations and all sort of horrible statements I find myself ashamed of now, when she decided to interrupt me and give one of her stern talks.”

“She gave me a lot of perspective on all the things you sacrificed for me, from things as simple as paying me back 6 months worth of payments, to setting up a safety net when you left for my own good. She helped me come to terms with the truth and how much I truly owe you for where I am today. And you know what?” He looked up, meeting your gaze. “I agree with her wholeheartedly,”

You found yourself completely flabbergasted by his statement, shocking you with his ability to forgive and worrying you that perhaps he hadn’t come as far in his recovery as you’d hoped. He took in both your shock and your concern with a warm smile. 

Tom pulled out a few pieces of paper out of his jacket pocket, placing them down on the table in front of you confidently. “I want you to know that I didn’t come here to get retribution in any way. Without everything you did, including coming and living with a severely depressed patient that refused to be on any antidepressants or get other forms of help, I wouldn't have made it here today. Yeah, you let something happen that shouldn’t have, but I am just as responsible for that as you are. Understand that I don’t expect you to carry the load of the blame or solely pay for it.

“But I should, Tom,” you interrupted, trying to convince him of the truth you knew. “I should have been better than that, more responsible. If I was doing my job correctly, it would have never happened.”

He shook his head determinedly, stopping you in your tracks. “No, you shouldn’t. Because I remember how I pushed you, how I begged when I saw your weakness. I knew I could convince you if I just said the right thing and that means I manipulated you into giving me what I wanted. I just hadn’t accounted for the pain I would cause both of us because you were too good to let me destroy myself.”

“That’s not how I remember things. You were hurting, Tom, and I took advantage of you in a bad moment,” You argued, still desperate to convince him. 

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How about this? If you wish to make it up to me, then get behind this foundation I’m starting to help people struggling with their mental health and suicide that don’t have the support of their families to help pay for comprehensive treatment. This,” he said, pointing to the papers on the table, “is why I came here.”

You could hardly believe your ears. Tom really wanted you to be part of any organization that helps more people after how you screwed everything up with him?! It didn’t matter what he chose to ask of you because you’d never be able to deny him, but out of all the repercussions you deserved, this is what he chose?

Picking up the papers on the table, you looked over the information on the foundation while listening to him explain the details enthusiastically, walking you through his plans to help people in need. This is truly why you chose to devote your time to those on the top because they always found a way to help thousands more get better. And Tom truly encompassed that idea perfectly. 

As he finished explaining, his whole face lit up expectantly for your reaction. You gave him a warm smile and responded. “This is incredible, Tom. I would love to opportunity to be part of it and help you develop the specifics you need to get things up and running.”

“Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful,” Tom rejoiced with a sincere boyish energy that left you feeling just as giddy. Perhaps the two of you could be friends, with no expectations of being more. Just the comfort and wonder of friendship.

Tom stood up, letting you follow before enveloping you in a hug that brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t have asked for a happier ending to something so painful for the both of you. Yes, you might always love him, but the fact he still wanted to be in the same room as you was more than enough,

After a moment, he pulled away, a shyness over taking his features. “I know this is probably too much to ask,” he began, the hesitancy of before returning, “but would you be willing to give me the chance to truly get to know you? You stood by me for so long and I realized I truly knew nothing about you. And you never really got to know me without depression as well. If you would trust me enough to give this a try once more, I would be most grateful”.

“There’s nothing in the world I’d like more, Tom,” you whispered softly before meeting his lips as they ventured close to yours, sealing the hope you both felt for the future in one beautiful act of trust, Tears fell from your eyes, washing away the regret and guilt to give way to a sincere happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. 


End file.
